Tag: depression is real

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The Darkness II

It never goes away.

I get up, go to work and come home and the darkness is there, waiting for me to return.

I get up, go to work and come home and the darkness is there, waiting for me to return.

I get up, go to work and come home and the darkness is there, waiting for me to return.

It never goes away.

I get up … the darkness is there.

I go to work … and the darkness is waiting for me outside.

I come home … and the darkness follows me, beats me home every time. Waiting for me again.

Always waiting for me. It never goes away.

I lie in bed and it consumes me. Sleep is the only escape. Deaths sweet embrace that isn’t actually death.

I wake up and the darkness is there. Oily, thick, cloyingly greasy. The shower is an escape. But it’s only temporary. The darkness isn’t there when I get out, but I don’t want to get out. There is something raw and unspoken about just standing there, under the hot water.

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Depression is real and it is on every face you look at, starting with your own.

Like a fishing hook through my leg, pression has made its grasp on me again, and it hasn’t let go all day, never relenting. At first you are like a floating survivor of a boat accident at sea, next minute, you are being pulled down with such force and velocity you are left to wonder if you will drown first, or if your head will explode from the pressure. All the while, your body convulses, but at irreducible times and infrequently.