A woman sits with a blanket to bear. She sits and sighs, wondering if the depression is ever going to end. She ran out of her medicine and had no way to replace it. Her impacting bubbles escaped her unsettling mind. She couldn’t figure out how to keep everything going around her in check. As the space fills with time, she asks herself many questions and writes down ideas, but the more she tries, the more she feels like everything has been tried and worn out with no one listening and no one wants to find a way to come together to help.

Dear Mental Health,

I wanted to reach out and ask, “Do you exist?” Growing up, I experienced difficulties in school, and I understand that not everyone grasps things right away. But why did you have to bring us the gift of different emotions?

I know that these illnesses, as you refer to them, affect everyone, but do they come in different categories? Are they randomly assigned to each person out there? These are questions I’m eager to understand, but perhaps that’s the mystery, isn’t it? Why are some of us chosen to face these challenges? I never asked for them, and I’ve always wondered if I could have been given different conditions. Perhaps that would have led to a different life for me—who knows?

Thank you for considering my thoughts.

Let it burn in your throat.
The emotions from your heart, rising like a flood, and pushing to the surface,
threatening to break the dam behind your eyes, a release of flowing tears.

But the dam holds, forged of learned silence— a wall built by the hundred times your voice found no echo, no gentle hand to meet its reach.
What’s the use of a flood when the world’s ears are stone, its eyes, a blank stare?

So you let it burn, this defeated truth, a scalding current trapped behind your teeth.
It twists, while your mind raises a quiet question: why does caring cost so much, when it lands on nothing?

And the fallout?
A hollow hum where laughter used to be, a heart that learns to beat softer, to guard its own light, because sharing only dims it.

And so the fire stays, cemented, a constant, private ache— a monument to what was never heard.

A deep current runs, unseen, yet always felt, beneath the calm surface, where dark secrets dwell.
A fading light, a choice once made, the crushing weight of what was, now laid bare for me. A quiet struggle with a shadow’s rise, on a stage where eyes meet the skies. A constant hum of endless need, Questions linger, like seeds to breed. The fragile shield, nearly worn through, a blessing turned to burden’s hue.

Then, a sudden chill in a shared space.
A word like a stone cast into the waters.
The bright colors of belief now muted.
A question hangs, unheard: Is this real?
And so the mind gently retreats, a soft step back, drifting motion, no turning back.
With the body present, moving throughout the day, while consciousness finds its own distant shore a walk to a necessary vanishing, a breath of nothing.

Underneath this skin
lies uncertainty wanting clarity
fear to put one step in front
sabotaging energy
love from own heartbeat
overload of anxieties
overwhelming sensation
of healing clogged pores

Underneath all the wounds
lies beauty in progress
strength in training
courage in action
love in veins
clarity in pores

Oh brain
why must you
feel this pain
I try to heal
the cause root
even when its
been a long commute

why must you
choose to be blue
when it leaves
for an overcast
type of mood

I wish you
would simply calm
when gently rested
on my palm

This is a story about a man who wants to live a simple life without any complications. From what I have observed, he enjoys playing games, watching TV, and getting high from his medication. However, when it comes to taking care of the house or resolving issues, he prefers to do everything his own way. He is unwilling to listen to others’ thoughts or opinions and rarely allows anyone to have a voice.

What doesn’t make sense is that he claims he only wants someone who will work and bring money into the household. It seems he wants everything handed to him without giving anything back in return. He believes that money is the key to making relationships work. Based on what I am reporting, do you think he truly wants to be with someone? In what you read, do you honestly think he really has mental issues, or is he actually happy with what he has chosen? How can you go into determining those struggles when you have them yourself?

You, my sir.
Yes, you.
There’s going to be hard days.
Even easy days.
You, the person reading this,
Has the opportunity to make
The day a great one.

You, my sir.
Yes, you.
Of course it’s going
To be full of ups & downs.
That’s the beauty of life.

It’s your duty as a human
To break the negative branches
And build such glory
From the leftover twigs.

You, my sir.
Yes, you.
I believe in you.
I see you.
I love you.

Hello there sunshines, I am here with some great news you can naturally overcome depression and anxiety. The bible teaches us how to naturally balance the positive and negative emotions in our lives. It’s ok at the darkest moments In Our lives to go to the doctor and get the help needed at that moment, he made doctors for a reason. What’s not okay is to rely on that medication to fix al of your childhood and adult relationship traumas. God has walked me through deliverance and a Beautiful way to enjoy life, focus on self love and hear his voice and tune out the world. Here are some tips on how to live life to the best of your ability on a budget. First find a job that u enjoy not have to show up to everyday ,but want to show up to and take pride in your work daily. Second find an area where just u and God can bear each other’s voices. God showed me and my sister in Christ this past year so many ways to see and appreciate his beauty from door dashing, in multi states ,to visiting museums and botanical gardens, to Learning about plants animals and history and it was a great stress reliever. Everyday for the past year doordash paid for our museum trips ,air b and b , and food and gas as we traveled America. We stayed in the tri state area and everything was within four hours of home.Our daily budget for spending was 20.00 most of the time it ended up under that price range. The third thing God helped me with to not be stressed and depressed was laying all of life’s problems at his feet and he gives us rest as it states in scripture. Picture yourself with one carryon bag then another suitcase and before u know it your carrying the entire planes luggage. This analogy is our lives we tend to worry and fear and pickup baggage that doesn’t belong to us. Cast your cares upon him and he will give u rest Amen. The fourth way to get rid of anxiety and depression is by using sensory things from your environment. This consist of smelling hearing seeing tasting and touching. I find for me nature walks running waterfalls and rivers,coloring on sidewalks with chalk, photographing nature and just being youself in general, traveling to local places, interacting with animals both tame and wild, and social distancing when needed work best. When noises around us are loud and overbearing putting on headphones and listening to something encouraging helps. Get in the habit of finding the daily verse that speaks life and encouragement into your soul and live out your purpose, 💓 u are loved I pray this helps the mass numbers and you can get peace in your hearts and enjoy your life much love and light 🕯️

Dear Lord,

We’ve had a lot of talks lately. Some good, some not so good. I’ve prayed for a couple ambulances and high schoolers and the parents for the infants at my school.

I’ve prayed for less anger, more sleep, less anxiety about the world. For the United States, for Gaza, for Syria and Lebanon and Yemen and the Congo…

For guidance.

I’m not the best of Jews, I know that. I don’t eat kosher like I should, I often forget my nightly prayers, I work on the sabbath. I know I’m not the best.

I try. I fast and I repent and I want to learn more about you Lord. I feel like the older I get, that I feel closer to you. I pray to you in good and in bad times. Our relationship has its valleys and mountains but I know you better. You’ve always known me though.

There’s a lot of suffering in the world. Time is marching backwards underneath my feet and I feel like I cannot make the world stand still. Or continue the original path or rotation. I pray in the hopes that you will be able to guide the right people to the right paths soon. Existence is a form of resistance, right?

Poetry feels a lot like prayer. I take a pen to my carotid artery and bleed all over these little letters, in hopes that it will string together coherent words. Using a young language to spill these feelings that I’m not quite sure have names. I pour it all out, I step back, and realize the feeling is duller now that it’s no longer in me.

That’s what prayer feels like to me.

I don’t know why, Lord, you made me this way. I know there must be a reason, there’s always a reason but I cannot see it. And I want to see it. I know you don’t make mistakes but— why do I feel like I am one?

I don’t feel like a good sister, a good friend, a good daughter, a good lover. I feel like I’m selfish. Spoiled. I demand too much. Give too little. A hypocrite. A liar.

Sometimes I don’t feel human. I’m so angry sometimes, Lord, that I just want to scream!!

Sometimes I just wanna grab someone and slap the living shit out of them. I wanna make someone feel as horrible as I do. I want them to feel every punch, kick, stab, slice, grope and rape that I have experienced. Then I feel horrible for wishing this fate on a nonexistent person and I pray for forgiveness. I know it’s an intrusive thought, I know I’d never do such a thing. But it kills me when I think about it.

There are times that I wanna go into an empty field and just scream into it. Sob as hard as I want for as long as I want. No one to eavesdrop, no one to watch. Just lose it fully for once.

I need that.

I’ve prayed to you about some things that I didn’t mean. I prayed to die many times. I know you know I didn’t mean that, which is why I’m still here.

I’ve prayed why my boyfriend doesn’t love me. I know he does, I just wish I could feel it like I know it. He adores me. He loves me. I need a little help remembering that Lord. If you have the time to spare, I’d greatly appreciate that.

I think- I think I struggle to believe I can be loved. Years of hurt can do that to a person. I try so hard to make sure those I love never feel the way I felt. Unlovable. Broken. No longer human. I don’t know if I’ve ever had a relationship outside of my childhood best friends that made me feel like a person.

When my boyfriend and I started dating it felt like someone had reignited a previously stamped out candle. Now the wick is burning but there’s no wax to cling to. I am so fucking lonely G-d. If you ever have a spare moment, enter my dreams and remind me that I am not alone. Remind me of my partner, my brother, my friends. Remind me of the job I love, the life I’ve chosen, the skills I possess. You’ve got bigger things to worry about than me, but I’d like to not be forgotten. Don’t forget to remember me in that whirlwind of human chaos you’ve come to know.

I know that I just have to grit and bear some of it like a big girl. I know that I have to fight. But I— I don’t have a lot of fight in me right now.

So Lord, if you could do this for me, I’d greatly appreciate it. If you could instill in me the need to fight, the need to claw my way out, I will claw my way out.

Amen,

For my husband, who left too soon. For me, who stayed.

We were building something real.
Something messy and beautiful and ours.
Three years of laughs,
Hard talks, late-night plans,
Tears and kisses and silly fights
That ended in bed or in smiles.

You were my safe place.
My soft landing.
My best friend and my storm.

We said forever in March.
Turned keys to our first home in May.
And in July—
You left me
With a silence so loud
It still rings in my bones.

I watched you go.
I screamed.
I begged.
I broke in ways I can’t explain—
Not even to myself.

You didn’t just die.
You tore the sky open,
And I’m still standing in the wreckage,
Barefoot, bleeding, trying to breathe.

People say “you’re so strong.”
No.
I’m not strong.
I’m shattered.
But I wake up anyway.
I make coffee.
I cry quietly in the shower.
I hold our memories like landmines—
Knowing any one of them can level me.

I loved you too much to be okay.
But I also love you enough
To keep going.

Even when it hurts.
Even when I hate you for leaving me.
Even when I ache for just one more touch,
One more laugh,
One more “I’m home.”

You were the love of my life.
The stepfather who adored our kids like they were your own.
The man who made ordinary things feel magical.
You were it for me.

And now I carry all of that
Inside a heart stitched with grief and fire.

I’m still here,
Still breathing,
Still holding the broken pieces
Of everything we were supposed to be.

And I will keep going—
Not because I’m strong,
But because love like ours
Deserves to survive
Even if one of us didn’t.

Your Word say in Ezekiel 11 verse 19 “I will give them a singleness of heart and put a new spirit in them I will take away their stony stubborn heart and give them a tender responsive heart”, (NIV)

I come now asking for an exchange.

Where there is anger,
Grant me Love.
Where I harbor resentment,
Teach me Forgiveness.
Where there is regret,
Show me Acceptance.
Where I hide my shame,
Give me Honor.
Where I buried my sorrows,
Bring forth Gladness.
Where I have pain
Restore me with Comfort.
When I crumble under doubt,
Rise me up into Assurance.
Where there is Chaos,
Bring my thoughts into Order.
Where there is confusion
Show me Clarity.
Where I may pass Judgement,
Open me up to Compassion.
Where I have pride,
Teach me humility.
Where there is fear,
Give me Faith.
Where there is rejection,
Grant me Detachment.
When I worry,
Give me Peace.
Where there is Long Suffering
Grant me Patience.
Where I lost pieces of myself along the way,
Grant me the Strength, Endurance, Grit, Perseverance and Wisdom to come back, Stronger, wiser, and more Victorious than Before.
Ase

This gig
This “being my best self” business,
This sunny day after the storm
Is pretty rough.
With wind blown trash from last week
(Or last decade) all over the soul
It is exhausting today, to
Focus on today’s business.

Some other day will be enchanting, Exhilarating,
I’ll be Wonder Woman
Or
Maybe I’ll be just enough, ok?
And putting one foot in front of another will come a little
Easier, next day
Even if Van Der Klok assesses the score and my kind intentions are a bit lopsided today, and my hair;
There will be
Another day
For me.

These conflicting emotions and thoughts always get the best of me and take control. Sinking their teeth into my brain, releasing their venom so it’s always on my mind. I want to just give up and stop trying to take back control. Just give in completely. Let it all go. I’m so tired of trying to hold on and it’s useless anyway. I may or may not have put up a good fight, but the war was fought and the battle is done. It has won. This is the time to surrender and admit defeat.

Prowriting aid style score: 100%

“Do you have any sage advice for me ” my friend asked after we discussed a beautiful solo act of spoken word combined with the playing of the Harp. The talented performer is a woman named Amanda Peckler. I thought about my friends question, taken aback with honor – and a bit of imposter syndrome.

My head spun with the amount of answers I could say; I gave so many answers to his one question, I could not even remember what I said.

“I envy your way of thinking,” he said.

“You admire it, not envy.”

After sincerely crediting my mentors for the ability to think the way I do, I explained:

“Most of the time, we can try what we envy:

Next time you envy someone for their talent, change it to admiration.

Inevitably you are going to struggle the first time; just remember:

Even the advanced were once beginners.

You’ve been my shadow for as long as I can remember, lurking in the corners of my mind, whispering doubt, exhaustion, and fear into every crevice of my soul. You’ve made yourself at home in my thoughts, convincing me that stillness is safety, that failure is inevitable, and that I am nothing without you.

But I see you now. I see how you twist my reflection, how you tangle my dreams in barbed wire, how you drag your fingers through my happiness just to watch it unravel. I hear the lies you tell me—that I’m not good enough, that I’ll never change, that I should just give up. And I won’t pretend your voice isn’t loud. It is. Some days, it’s all I hear.

But guess what? I’m still here. I’m still writing, still fighting, still daring to want more than the prison you’ve tried to build around me. You’ve stolen too many moments, too many dreams, too many days where I could have felt joy but instead felt only your weight pressing down on my chest.

So, I’m making something clear today: You don’t get to win.

I won’t say you’re gone, because I know you’re always lurking. But I will say this—I am learning to live around you, despite you, and in defiance of you. Every time I write, every time I create, every time I move forward even when you’re clawing at my ankles, I am reclaiming myself.

You are not me. You are something I carry, something I battle, but you do not define me.

I do.

And I choose to keep going.

Sincerely,

Me

Outside my body
Looking in
It’s time to alert
My last of kin

I’m not myself
Think I’ve gone crazy
The last few days
Have been quite hazy

What am I thinking?
Have I gone nuts?
I’m acting insane
And I’m dressed like a slut

My middle finger
In the air
I’m drunk by noon
And i’ve cut my hair

Couldn’t give a fuck less
If I get in trouble
Speed limit’s 30,
I’m doing double

Blaring music
Hysterically screaming
Everything’s foggy
I must be dreaming
Met up with some new friends
Guess it’s high time to go ghost
On the people around me
That care about me the most

They’ll know exactly
What this all means
They’ll try and stop it
And I’ll cause a scene

My mom will exclaim
“Oh, fuck, she’s gone manic!”
And when you look at her face
You can see she’s started to panic

But what everyone here
Is failing to realize
Is that a manic episode
Is like winning the grand prize

I’m having a great time
I just quit my job
I’ve pounded a fifth
And i’m making kabobs

I don’t wanna come down
I don’t wanna stop it
Won’t take medication
So you might as well drop it

So I’m watching my alter
Destroy all that I’ve built
She won’t even slow down
Doesn’t understand guilt

Give it a week
And I’ll snap back to reality
But I’ll be so fucking depressed
That I’ll crave that mentality

No one can wake me
For almost a week
But when they finally do
I’m empty and bleak

I’d rather be mental
Blissfully crazy
Than low, sad, or sleepy,
Vacant and lazy

It’s no easy task
Living life with bi-polar
Cause when she gets on a good one
Even I can’t control her

Style Score: 80