The weather was dismal and dreary much like my mood. The clouds were grey and leaves flew across

The conversation then developed into him talking about his studies and his experiences as an architect. He made us introduce ourselves. I didn’t feel shy, for I had practiced this enough in my Speech class in the summer. After introducing myself, he gave me a mysterious look and stated that I was the first Early College student he had ever taught. I sat down feeling more relaxed and light, and the introductions continued. As many of the other classes, the first day was only of introduction and foreshadowing the works that would be present in the future. It was 6:50 p.m. and the class had ended. I picked up my backpack and pushed in my chair, but as I walked towards the exit, I looked at him but he was already looking at me and he smiled. I smiled back and opened the doors. As I walked back towards the cafeteria, I was reading the syllabus again, still examining the calming detail in it and reviewing the projects and tests. I entered the cafeteria and there were less than 5 students. I walked in the concrete sidewalk again and felt the autumn’s cold breeze hit my cheek. The sun was down but it’s warm and calming colors were still visible. The warm red-yellowish

Entry #1: I feel like i’m spinning, but i’m standing still everything seems so fuzzy and I can’t stop moving. My friends are starting to notice something's wrong. I see people in the hallway who whisper things like “i’m gonna kill you”. I can’t identify the difference between reality, and what my brain makes up. I told my parents about what the people in the hallway say but they don’t believe me. I don’t know how to tell them how I feel, but I don’t trust them either.

As my car climbed the hill, my heart sunk into my stomach. I parked as far away from my friends as I could and quickly exited the car, not once looking at them. Now it was every man for himself. Emerging into the open air, I suddenly became aware of myself. I could feel my puffy, blood-shot eyes. My palms became slimy. My fingers clinched into a fist and my nails dug into my skin. My sight blurred and my tunnel of vision tried to focus on the front door. Every step seemed more awkward than the last. Eyes pierced me from all sides. I felt naked. My body trembled like a sheep in the midst of wolves.

Depression placed a dark brooding shadow over my mind. I was weighed down, oppressed by the burden of having to carry on with life. In my mind, there was a crushing sense of hopelessness that I have never felt before. The only therapy I found was taking that beautiful, freshly sharpened razor to my left arm. A sigh of relief departed me as I watched the bright red blood drip from my vein. The only burden I had was going to school and hiding my war scars. Each day, the darkness spread through me like cancer. My body withering away, I needed an escape route from this crucial disease. This all continued until the day I saw a light and the darkness began to fade

Focus! The burden of destructive emotions constantly tarnishes my brain. It is essential that I isolate myself from the pessimistic chain of thoughts. I need to distort myself from the daily trauma and everlasting misery that I encounter. The turmoil has left me forever fatigued and has numbed my mind. My heart is grazed and broken with regret, my soul is haunted by fear and guilt along with my body diseased and rotten. The experience has been morbid and excruciating, I can’t tolerate this anymore.

My mind was going one thousand miles per hour, those words haunting my head. Hot tears flowed down my face as the words sunk in. I slumped in my seat feeling exhausted and too cold for this warm house. My father’s arms reached for me, trying to comfort me. He wouldn’t understand the mental loss that was turning into physical pain. My chest heaved for air, trying to get this drowning feeling out of these thoughts that envelope me bringing a soft cloak of anxiety. “Not again, please.”

It was my first time in the second floor OR and I was placed there alone. I went to found Ronny and told him that it is my first time in the OR. He told me that when I go into the OR I must always have a surgical bouffant on. We went to a room in the OR where he gave me a walkie-talkie, this always the front desk to contact me when there is a patient pick-up. He said that it must be on channel one at all times and that the volume should not be loud enough to disturb other that I can hear loud and clear. As I understood him a nurse for help called him for something. As I was waiting for a patient pick-up Ronnie was walking out of the OR telling me that he will be back as soon as possible. As soon as he left there was a call for a patient pick-up.

It was my first day on the job with Lyric. I was moderately eager to meet him. When I first encounter new clients, I do not know what to expect. I became accustomed to walking into people’s homes blindfolded without expectations. I knocked before I entered Lyrics home at 8PM that Friday evening. I was greeted by the CNA that I was releasing off of her shift. I quickly noticed that the room’s atmosphere radiated an aura of coffee. The smell was quite pleasant and homey. I could distinguish the scent of the coffee beans mixed with vanilla. The CNA stood in front of me as she informed me that Lyric had a great day. I put on my warming smile as I introduced myself to Lyric. He smiled at me and told me hello. After the other CNA left, I provided Lyric with my company and began to get to know him better. Lyric lived in a two-bedroom, two-bathroom suite. The sight of his room was pretty welcoming. The beige curtains matched up well with the brown carpet of the apartment. I ran my hands along the silk curtains as I closed them. The curtains felt so soft and delicate as if they were made from the same material of my silk black gown in my room closet. I sat down on the chair next to Lyric’s recliner that he was sitting in. I watched him as he thought out loud about schedule for the next

Soon, the girls leave and the doctors run more tests. The days grow more and more mundane as the actions grow more and more routine, leaving me prisoner to my thoughts.

These ‘thoughts’ are something I wish was a Zombie; so they wouldn’t be real. Regrettably, these thoughts are from an equally terrifying creature called depression.

On my first day of work, my boss led me to the section of the office in which I would be working. “Our old scrivener prefers not to work right now” he said, passive-aggressively gesturing to Bartleby “and that is why we’ve hired you to replace him.” I looked over at the motionless man, but he gave no acknowledgement to either of us. Instead, he stared out the window, which looked directly out onto a brick wall. The boss left abruptly and I began to get settled in the office and eventually I decided to engage the man by the window.

For a brief moment in time, I felt severed from reality. The myriad of emotions within me: sadness, outrage, chagrin, relief, were overwhelming and forced me into a state of numbness. I was then shocked back to reality by the people around me, and I started to make sense of the chaotic neural messages within my brain. One fact soon became clear - I was an utter failure.

As I await the therapist in the waiting room, my mind is racing, heart pounding, and palms sweating. I’ve been waiting for three years to meet with him, but of course, Dr. Johnson was completely booked until now. Each night I have been taunted with an atrocious dream and ready for the affliction to cease. Finally, he appears in the doorway and calls my name. Instantaneously, I stand up and shuffle behind the therapist to the cubicle.

I had been instructed to introduce myself to the patients, so I started with the first room and began to work my way down the long and dimly lit hallway. Popping my head into each room, I quickly muttered my name and half of a greeting before rushing over to the next one. Many of the patients in the unit didn’t acknowledge me, and for that, I was grateful. It wasn’t until I had gotten to the last room, in fact, that I was even met with a

People who suffer from mental illness such as Depression and Anxiety do not only deal with the situations harrowing with the disease; but also people’s thoughts on the