Tomorrow Is Already A Memory

I will not be the last one unheard

I beg my mind to release me from what I am doing myself. Too much time spent behind a locked door waiting for freedom to kick it down.

The weight of my embarrassment is showing. Although to display my situation is forbidden. I doubt mercy will come and remove me from self-pity. My self-control is saving the blame to defend the opinion, that will help me lose the argument when tough decisions come knocking.

I will stand my ground, hoping intolerance will knock me down. So, the rest of my story has something more to say.

My lack of familiarity with life is my secrecy. Too much time sinking, having never learnt to swim.

And as I am the only one who visits my compassion, I know I am probably my very own last goodbye. Feeling like a little bit like fiction on another day of nonexistence. Powerless to rewrite the words that are getting prepared to be hammered like nails into my coffin.

All my efforts to break free from tomorrow that is already a memory. Leaves me neglecting to protect the reason I question why. Why my scream will not be the last one unheard.

I cannot give up until I will convert words of desperation, into words of wisdom.

When suffering is all someone knows. Tomorrow is already a memory. The escape from thoughts is an occasional luxury. A casual conversation means more to them than you know. Listening to other people’s challenges is not for everyone. If someone is close enough to you and reaches out. Recognize the trust they put on you. The confidence you have given them as they feel safe to talk freely. Please do not silence them, they might feel like a burden and may never reach out again. It may have taken all their strength to talk to you. Maybe suggest helping them find the right person to talk to. Please do not leave them to suffer in silence.

Tomorrow should not be a repeating memory People do not know what they have until it is gone. People do not know how lucky they are while surrounded by people who have the same. This is a small piece of my experience and opinion.

Mental and physical health are both equally important. Although it appears the stigma remains that mental health is inappropriate to discuss unless with a professional.

If someone with a broken leg started to complain about how painful it is. Nobody says “do not talk to me about your broken leg, I am not your doctor”

However, if someone with a mental illness like depression attempts to talk about it. How many would say something like. “do not talk to me about your problems, I am not your therapist”

Empathy is not a flaw that must stay behind the line. Empathy should go beyond the line and show us where we can all go. In life we should never regret what we do, however, we often regret would we never did.

Helping people is part of being human. Where has empathy gone?

We are individual waves of the same ocean. We are one tribe, one race, one destiny, one fire, one earth, one life with one heart that should only be beating towards happiness, not early graves.

We must normalise talking about mental health. In life, there are no guarantees. Life can easily fall apart, and a mental illness picks up the pieces and can leave us feeling unheard.

Tomorrow should never be a repeating memory, it should only disagree with our misery. Suicide is often one releasing oneself from misery. Sometimes all someone wants is to feel like someone is listening. Suffering in silence and suicide should never be anybody’s solution.

I know from personal experience that suffering in silence only makes it worse. I have clinical depression, and unentitled mindset, social anxiety, masking, and rumination. I am dyslexic, and I taught myself how to read and write (which took years, listening to music while reading the lyric. Countless hours with my nose stuck in a dictionary, and without technology, I would not be able to spell as that is my dyslexia’s biggest weakness) I spent years learning how to write down every thought I believed nobody wanted to hear or could never understand. Some people are not as lucky as others. There is a big difference between not wanting to talk to anyone and having no one to talk to.

Everything happens for a reason. My empathy is one of the reasons I am still alive. I believe I spent years creating a passion for writing and grew a passion for knowledge for a reason.

I am continuously researching psychology to self-develop, and I want to do my part to help spread awareness and understanding about how much mental health matters.

I can write about my personal experience with the hope I can write enough and that some people will read my work and kiss and loved one goodnight instead of goodbye.

Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed this, please check out my other work