But The Tigers Come At Night.Depression has left a deep imprint in my life. When I think about all the things I could have done better or to make my parents proud, it weighs down.
I was always the smart one in my class, until my little brother got thrown into the picture. His perfect everything made my parents gush over him. And they still do.
My only talent is and was music. So I threw myself into it. Between composing, singing, and practicing, I don't have time for much else.
A few months ago, I was singing around the house when my dad finally slammed down the hammer and told me to stop. He said it would be different if I was 'actually good at it'.
Depression hit hard on me. And it still is. As much as I told myself their opinion doesn't matter, it does. And now I have nothing to be good at for them. Nor will anything be good enough for them.
I dreamed a dream in time gone by; hope was high, life worth living. I dreamed that love would never die, I dreamed that god would be forgiving.