Things you'll never see.

You'll probably never realize the kinds of things you haven't seen in what you're reading. I'll bet when you read that notebook you'll miss some things you didn't pay attention to, and you'll probably read it one time and be terrified of me, or you'll read it a thousand times and still not understand how I could be that messed up, how I could keep myself from seeing the beauty in the world, but I can, and I do. It's hard sometimes to see beauty when the only thing that exists on your heart and your mind is sadness; shadows and pain and hurt that you'll never understand, but it doesn't make sense to anyone in the first place anyway. That's how depression works, that's how it weighs on your heart and your mind and your soul and you think you're never going to make it out before the weight of it crushes you and you don't have to wonder anymore, because you're dust. Dust doesn't think any more than the rocks or the stones or the water. You're simply crushed into a knowledge-less bliss that you'll never even know exists, because you found it too late for any of it to matter.