She leaves the window to let the rain in. She watches the lazy river form and fall, seeping into the designer wallpaper and staining it. She watched the rain tug at the seams of the walls and imagined the room coming undone around her. She imagined the ceiling caving in and crushing her. She lay still and watched the rain fall. She lay still and tried not to breathe, to burn, to break.
Creative is one word to describe this, but that doesn't quite fit this. I as well suffer from depression though recently it's improved to an extent, writing is such a wonderful vent. A very, VERY powerful write you've conjured up.