Depression.

That's a word I've been coming across more often lately.
Starting with Dear Zindagi and ending with World Health Day, everyone has been talking about it.
We hang banners and share posts on Facebook like we're really interested. But does it really make a difference? Is anyone ready to listen to someone speak about their problems, and help them sort it out? Even when they think they are, they most often find you're not once you've dipped their toe in it. It will always feel like insecurities are meant to be obscured, a brave face meant to be put on, and the internal struggle meant to be suppressed. I'm not talking about just those with clinical depression; I'm talking about each one of us, who all lie somewhere along the spectrum of mental illness. There's no one that's perpetually cheerful and positive, and there's hardly anyone who doesn't find the need to pretend that they are.
It's easy to judge those that have the strength to speak out about it, and it's even easier to ridicule those that exhibit symptoms without realising it. It's amazing how easily can be perceived as "weird" or "annoying", instead of being understood for what they are.
I hope everyone knows they aren't alone, that everyone faces varying degrees of the same. That doesn't make anyone's problem less significant; the gravity of one's problems are decided by none but the person himself, and he can seek help for anything he feels necessary. You are unique, you are important to the world, and without you, everything would be different for someone. No one's life is worth their little obstacles, and definitely not their IPE results.
Kudos to every one of us, that crumble from within and look strong on the outside. Each of us has our demons that torment and take us down every now and then. Hurrah to us all, that defeat them time to time, to stand triumphantly tall again.

Turning over a new leaf

That's what I meant to do,
Like it was every time. I was to change
To be anew
To do it like I'd always dreamed to.
To be all I could be,
Aim for the stars, reach at least the sky
I was supposed to be different now.
Tons of times I've made this decision
Of course it isn't​ a first
It's a repetitive resolution
In a life with no fixed constitution
Like ice, tough as a solid like any other
That sometimes melts to water
Soon enough, when it's hot enough
It vapourizes
But what's worse, when left alone under the sky
Evaporates for no reason at all-
I feel it;
I understand it.
It's like when I'm back home
Where the familiar feeling envelopes me
Where things slip away
Under my tightening grip
Where my dreams seem as though of another
Where light fades out to darkness
And I greet my old friend again.