I've Got Nothing to Say.

March 11th, 2016, 1pm

It was 9°C. There was moderate breeze.

An overwhelming urge to isolate myself encompasses my body, and mind. Soon, thoughts turn to darker places, and I’m reminded of my 16 year old self…

I, at the time, was staying in my younger brother’s room for what I was told would “just be a month or two”. I bunked in his room from July to December in 2011. He was demoted to basement dweller, while I took up residence in his room, conveniently located next to mine, while my father painted and renovated a room I wished I could feel at home in. Now, these few months are those I claim to have defined me. I was in my early stages of depression, and it hit me hard. When the aforementioned depressive thoughts would creep into my head, I would find myself laying on my bed, in the dark, listening to “Ask Me Anything” by The Strokes so loudly as to mute the war inside my head. The higher the volume, the more clearly I could hear the voice of Julian Casablancas singing his wise, yet scattered, advices to me.

Two things could happen while I was in this state: I cry silently, while staring at the ceiling, memorizing every bump and imperfection on the white surface, or I lay completely still, no words or sounds expressed by me, I feel numb, and alone.

Even still, at nearly 21 years of age, when these feelings approach me, unexpectedly, and I feel dejected, and crave my isolation, I turn to “Ask Me Anything” and pretend I’m 16 again; appreciating the simplicity that engulfed my life at that time.

“I’ve got nothing to say,

I’ve got nothing to say,

I’m in utter dismay,

I’ve got nothing to say.”

Mariah, Ben and David Wade said thanks.

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Victoria Wells

I love writing, photography, painting, singing, drawing, and if it involves being creative, then probably that too.

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