I am FULL of Rage.

Just a girl with A cups full of rage and nowhere to go.

I do my best thinking when the world is sleeping and my mind is awake, when the city streets have calmed and all you hear is the rain hitting the roof. The quiet when my rage doesn't feel like its taking over my body and the constant loneliness doesn’t feel like it's eating me from the inside. Depression is an interesting beast, it's constantly feeling like you’re not doing enough, but you're tired from doing it all - the simple act of existing has wiped you out.

Oh right, before I get ahead of myself. Hi, I’m Breana and I am clinically depressed. Growing up my family didn't quite understand what that meant so they sat me on multiple couches with the hope that they could “heal” me. With enough work I’d be able to put those melancholy feelings into a box and move on. My depression before we got a name for it, was their deepest shame, the girl who was groomed to be better than her peers, the overachiever, the straight laced girl who played school in the comfort of her bedroom because it felt easier being alone spent days fighting the urge to die and when death wasn’t knocking I was simply existing. My family hated that I couldn't just figure it out because in Black families, we’re taught that there is no such thing as sadness, you suck it up and keep it moving.

My family taught me how to hide the largest and most vulnerable side of myself. And now, I’m angry. The type of anger that makes your body begin to overheat, your heart start thumping and your hands begin to shake and not like that Eminem song where his nerves are getting the best of him and he’s throwing up his moms spaghetti - oops did my millennial side just slip out?

Honestly, I can’t remember a time when I haven’t felt a deep sense of rage - whether it be at the despicable state of the world or my special set of circumstances. My therapist has always told me to channel that rage into something good but I don’t have the time or the energy to do that. I want to channel it into something bad. I want to rage. I want to cry. And then I snap out of that and ask myself, what does that help so instead I decided to write.

I find that I am angry everyday, there hasn’t been a day where my rage hasn’t felt suffocating with a few good days that fill me with a deep state of intoxication that borders on liberation..

To be continued.