You see me laughing, but inside, I’m suffocating. You see me angry, but inside, I’m crying. You see me numb, but inside, the feelings are overwhelming. You see me breaking down, while I wish someone would hug me, take me aside, and tell my inner child: everything will be alright. But this never happens. The masks of depression are too heavy to lift, too safe to leave. You ask me how I am, and I am dying inside. A place at work is not a space for these words, So, we talk without saying anything. Silence remains, shielded by the mask of depression. Heavy is the chain of unheard pain. People tell me I don’t seem depressed, So, I hide and try to give my best. But to those who care—remember this: The inner despair of helplessness, The unseen world of loneliness, The darkness of hopelessness Exists in the light of a smile, in the glimpse of an eye, in the angry shout, in the person who still shows up and still works. Numbness, despair, anger, laughter, smiling, dancing— all these things can be masks of depression.
