Imagine

A. F. Naturaliy



Imagine a room.

Now, this is a very nice room.

New furniture, ornate frames with aesthetic pictures up on the wall. There’s a bed up against the wall and a couch across from it on the other side of the room. This is a medium sized room with red and mahogany furniture, gold frames, and white walls/carpet.

The light is bright and you can see everything.

 

Now, picture the light getting dimmer, the furniture getting tattered and torn. The pictures on the wall fall, glass breaking across the floor. The carpet becoming rough and thick, sticky liquid is on the wall. The bed is so torn, when you lay on it the springs jab into your flesh.

 

Picture the room so dark, you fumble around for the door to escape. You fall on the glass, crying out in pain. You scream for help, but the cold truth is that you are alone. It is deathly quiet except for your shaky breath, your cries, and your soft and uncertain footsteps.

 

But, you aren’t alone.

 

Picture another room.

It’s similar to the first room’s past beauty, but this one is much bigger. There’s the same furniture, but more. A piano is in the corner, a mini fridge next to the bed, and a television set near the couch.

There’s another difference.

Everyone you care about is waiting in there. They hear your cries, they hear your breaths. But, they can’t open the door they see so clearly. Only you can.

 

Picture yourself finally finding this door.

You’re welcomed with many hugs and happy tears. They shut and lock the door behind you, but their keys have no effect on the door’s lock. You stay in the second room with them, laughing and having a great time.

 

Suddenly, one of them leaves.

You are so shocked because they went into the first room instead of staying. You want to stay in the second room, but you go after them, the door slamming behind you.

The room is smaller now, but you can almost feel it get bigger, making you feel lost. You fall more, more things cutting into you. You are alone again.

You can go back to the second room, but you can go to the first. Sometimes, a friend leads the way to the door, sometimes you’re on your own.

 

Picture the first room again.

Watch the change from beauty to grotesque horror.

These rooms represent depression and relapse.

Overtime, depression rots away your brain, causing you to go about blindly until you finally find the way out. There’s times where you go back into depression, reverting back to being lost and blind.

For some, depression is a cycle until the first room is completely destroyed. Then, they stay in the second room the rest of their lives.

The second room dims at points, maybe the lights even flicker and go out completely. Their friends and family are still in the room, though. The lights come back on and they don’t feel as lost or alone.

 

Remember this.

Just imagine it.

 

  • Author: A. F. Naturality (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: May 12th, 2017 12:08
  • Category: Sad
  • Views: 29
  • User favorite of this poem: Lizzy Renee.
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