They call it “black bile”
They say its depression and that it’s all in your head, “you’re fine, just conflicted”.
“They” will never understand the afflicted.
They read the definition, claim to know the cure, but you are just an omission.
The inferno is out of sight, how can you help someone when all you see is a syndrome in a shape of a human.
When did the patient turned into a bothering martyr?
A Statistic, a statement, a nuisance, a parasite to be ignored, locked up and rendered useless.
A suffering individual is now only a number, it became the norm to label the sickness and stop seeking the source of the weakness.
When the plight becomes to much, you end up in a padded cell, left to “calm yourself” in that canvas made hell.
Your screams fall on deaf and ignoring ears, the cell gets smaller and smaller as the hours pass, you finally give up and collapse just to get out, play by their rules, smile through the abuse and ordeal you just had to endure.
In the end you finally get out of that horrific place, but hopeless and disillusioned.
You went in there to seek a savior, you got out scared and now tempting fate between a wrist and razor.