By Willem Myra
She’s the witness to her own murder. Her assassin is consuming her from the inside, peeling off one layer after another. It’s a slow, excruciating death. The core of her being—gone.
She’s now defined not by what she does, but by what she doesn’t do.
She: doesn’t date anymore, doesn’t blog, doesn’t swim, doesn’t text. Her brother notices the erosion of her personality, asks what happened.
She’d like to reply with something eye-opening, something poetic, like “Social anxiety is a reverse Panopticon,” but that would sound artificial, pretentious, so instead she shrugs, adding doesn’t talk to who she has become.
Heartbreaking and beautiful. You captured the utter emptiness that accompanies mental illness.
Your words are too kind.
Interesting story.
🙂
Very graphic presentation of someone falling into depression/mental illness. Would have liked to have seen a word or two directed toward the cause of this illness. Overall, an effective job.
Thank you, Bobby. The problem is, most of the times there is no cause to one’s depression, or if there is the person going through hell ignores it.
exceptional. Really enjoyed the silence vs pretentiousness. Thank you for those 101 words.
And thank you for yours, Smila.
An important theme, neatly captured in very few words. Well done, Willem!
Thanks, Neuda.
Best line:
“Social anxiety is a reverse Panoptican”……excellent image…….
It was haunting me for weeks before I was able to create a context to use it.
Wow. This not only captured my childhood, but my previous marriage. I always referred to it as “bleeding to death one drop at a time.” It wasn’t physical abuse (the marriage) but it was emotional abuse, neglect, and a slow death. I always explained he was “too lazy” to be physically abusive.
Great job on this story.
Thank you, Sue.
I’m sorry you have firsthand experience with the topic. I’d never with it to anybody.