Final story:

You bore me to death:

Lights out. All alone. It’s just me and you. There’s no escape when it’s only me and you. There’s no refuge when I see those eyes. Those piercing black eyes, which somehow overpower the blackness of the very room, consuming me in all its ill intent. When you’re around, you suck the life out of me. You reach your long, twisted, and prickled arms into and around my throat, suffocating the breath and the words that can now never leave my lips. HELP. I want to say. HELP. You shut me up. HELP. I break down. You always have a hold over me. Why can’t I ever slip out of your grasp? Why can’t I ever free myself from those chains holding me hostage?

Oh, one day, I wish, I can stand up and just say. Look into those soulless, magnetic eyes and just say: ‘You bore me to fucking death’. That way you can leave me alone. That way the depression can finally end. 

Analysis:

I centred my piece around depression, something very real and personal in my life. I wrote it in second person to really highlight the personification of mental illness, as it feels like there’s a whole other person in the room when you’re alone and overwhelmed, someone whose sole purpose is to break you down. I explored the inner wishes, dialogue and feeling of freedom from the darkness.