The Invisible Ache

Dear Delyara, You can't see a broken mind. There are no casts for a fractured spirit. People look at me and see someone who "looks fine," but they don't see the exhaustion of fighting my own brain every morning. Today, I made the invisible, visible. I wrote out the shape of my depression—what color it is, how it tastes, how it pulls at my limbs. Seeing it on the page made it a separate thing from me. It is a cloud, and I am the sky. The cloud is passing. The sky remains. I am still here.