I walk down the street. People are passing by. I see a group of tourists taking a picture of the church. I see young girls shopping alone for the first time. I see men chasing their girlfriends whilst holding their bags. Do they see me? Can they see that I suffer from depression? They can probably  feel it when they look into my eyes. The world is running, society is doing what it has to do. In the meantime, I want to press pause. It would be so nice if a pause button actually existed. Then I could just relax, only with myself. I could place the chaos in my head in order, without missing out on life. It is not fair that my depression wasted three years of my life.  

I walk down the street. I see a toddler running after a couple of pigeons. His mother is videotaping it. The toddler is having so much fun. I remember my own baby photos. The first photo I think of is one where I walk around the house wearing the sunglasses of my uncle and the shoes of my aunt. How did my mother feel when she made that picture? Did she ever think that her daughter, who was then a year and a half old, would get depressed later in life? Had she ever imagined that that big smile would disappear?

I walk down the street. It is dark outside and the lights are on. I look at the lamp posts and see that one of them is off. It is broken and must be replaced. My lamp post is also broken. Sometimes it blinks, but the blinking is mostly only of short period of time. I have already tried to repair the light in various ways. The first repairman analyzed the problem and figured out a plan to fix it. Yet the repairman did not manage to turn it on again, it was harder than it seemed. He called an even more skilled repairman, but he also did not get my lamp post back on. Together they found out that it was the wiring. All wires are mixed together, causing tension with short circuit as a result. The mechanics must call in the help of an even more skilled repairman to get my lamp post lit again.

I walk down the street. It is still dark. I feel tired. I want to lie down on the ground and not think about anything. My head is filled with cotton wool. Words go through my mind, but I cannot form complete sentences. I want to scream. I want someone to hear me and listen to me. It burns inside me, but nobody can see it. I want to run away, but my feet are nailed to the ground. Helplessly I look around, but people are in a hurry. They do not even see me. I turn around and continue walking.

Love, Ghyta