Author’s Note

Depression isn’t always loud.

Sometimes it isn’t a breakdown, or a moment where everything collapses.

Sometimes it’s just… there.

A constant presence in the background.
A low hum you can’t turn off.

You function. You respond. You say you’re fine—
because technically, you are surviving.

But inside, there’s a distance. A quiet. A kind of disconnection that’s hard to explain to people who haven’t felt it.

This piece comes from that space.

From trying to navigate something that isn’t intense enough to demand attention—but heavy enough to change how everything feels.

And in the middle of that…
holding onto whatever brings you back.

Even if it’s small.

Even if it’s just a voice,
a memory,
or a moment of warmth in the noise.

Because sometimes, hope doesn’t arrive all at once.

Sometimes—

it starts as a flicker.

— Czech cc

Low Hum
Poetry by Rowan Evans

I’ve been feeling
this low hum of depression
for some time—
it’s got me stuck
inside my mind.

It’s not enough
to be a crisis,
I just don’t know
how to fight it.
It’s got a grip on me—
we’ve got history.

Sometimes—
I sit like I’m lost in thought,
but there are no thoughts at all.

Just silence inside.

I watch my life
through hollow eyes.

There’s too much stimuli—
the world’s too loud sometimes.
I’m overwhelmed by
everything.

When they ask me,
I say, “I’m okay.
Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Why?
What’s on your mind?”

But I’m lying—
because I’m not okay,
I’m far from fine.

I’m trapped inside
this silence in my mind.

I want connection,
but my mind pulls me away.
I open my mouth,
but don’t know what to say—

or how to break the cycle.

How do I step outside the loop?

I hold onto whatever grounds me,
whatever helps
fight the tide inside my mind,
and keeps me clinging to the shore.

It starts small—
a single image:
A candle with flickering flame.

But it quickly grows—

her voice saying my name,
echoed through the dark.

Her laugh—
shatters the ice
around my heart.

I’m still stuck—

but now—

I have hope.

And maybe…
that’s enough to start moving.

Journey into the Hexverse!

Even knowing where you’re going doesn’t mean you’re not still fighting to get there. — [121° East]

If you’re interested in more poetry, you can find it here → [The Library of Ashes]