I’ve been dwelling, lately, on thoughts surrounding the life and death of Robin Williams. I’ve been thinking of how he represents, in so many ways, the truth behind the notion that everything is not as it seems and that he exemplifies the scary truth behind depression.
Depression is this crazy, cancerous, ruinous disease that spreads silently and viciously. If untreated, it works its way into every part of a person’s life until there’s nothing left but solitude and depressive thoughts.
It is the enemy to hope and perseverance.
It is the brutal price we sometimes pay for giving away too much of our own energy to make others happy.
It is riotous and numbing and dark.
It’s a vast and quiet ocean of lost.
It is the reason souls lose their glow, eyes lose their shine and hearts lose their swell.
It is the silent killer that preys often on the person at the center of the room.
It is the thief of colour and joy and wonder and light.
And at the center of it, it is the insufferable mountain of grief that is absolutely exhausting and most terrifyingly not always visible. It is a mental illness.
**If you or anyone you know can relate to these feelings, please reach out and talk to someone.**