Two Types of Sadness

During my collection of breaths, I've experienced two different kinds of sadness. I've experienced this one more than a few times; the type of sadness you feel when something doesn't work out, or when someone says something that impacts you and makes you feel weak. You feel as though someone's pulling down your heart and has their knee on your chest along with a cringing feeling in your stomach. I've also felt a -different- kind of sadness. The type of sadness that you don't realize; the invisible kind. Wait- let me rephrase that. This type of sadness is similar to the friend who seemed to show their back to you, to express their trust and vulnerability. However, in reality, they're showing their back to you because they're walking away. Do you know what I mean? This kind of sadness doesn't ache and crush, it doesn't tear and rip. This sadness eats at you slowly, as if you're being struck by small waves, and minuscule sparks, this sadness erodes who you are and burns you down day by day. Do you know what the worst part of this type of sadness is? At least when you feel the ache and broken bones, you can get a cast and reinvent yourself; pull the pieces together and only become stronger. This is different. This breed of despair's happening under your nose, and you feel nothing. At its infancy, denial blinds your motivations to piece together what's slowly breaking; a facade cast by your own confusion and drowning of thoughts. By the time you've realized that you're beginning to losing who you are, you already have. Before you can even pick up the pieces, you've lost them. What's left to fix after you've lost pieces to the puzzle? Now I've learned a great resolution to this sadness as well; start a new puzzle and don't lose the pieces this time. Depression truly eats away at who you are while you barely notice it. Like a tapeworm hiding in your intestines, it secretly eats away at what fuels you to continue going forward until each step feels so agonizing, that ending it just might seem like it requires less effort. Depression changes you, it leaves lesions deeper than a pothole in Compton, and although it'll heal eventually, scar tissue simply doesn't feel quite as soft.