prompt: what does depression mean to you?

disconnected. discontented. disjointed. a repeated, slow, painful degeneration. the death of the myself i know.a lingering darkness that dulls the mind, numbs the heart, cripples the soul, and weighs down the body. from where i stand now, i see it as the leprosy of what makes me me.

it consumes so thoroughly, it’s so damn fucking greedy, it takes away everything: the motivation to get up. the will power to see people. the responsibility of work. the comfort of family. the health of relationships. the love of lovers. takes, takes, takes, and takes. greedy fucker.

if that wasn’t enough, it eats of the self i posses. the joy of companionship. the meditation of reading. the outlet of writing. the pleasure of learning. the care of family. the loyalty to friends. the dedication to my love. they strip away. inch by inch. leaving you so limp. listless. loveless. lonely. oh so lonely.

loves true test is this. those who know. those who flee. those who anger. those who distance. those who confuse. those who help. those who help. those who help. those who stay.

it’s difficult to understand. it’s near impossible to explain. it’s a defeat you know is so absolute. time gives you just enough time to heal so that you can be broken back down completely. rewind. repeat. rewind. repeat. where is the learning in this? where is the wisdom? where is the worth of endurance?

it’s hard to say. it’s hard to see. i’ve stuck around this long anyways.
rewind. repeat.

1 comment
  1. kreeti said:

    I’ve been following you for a long time and I love to read your posts. I’ve read about your ups and downs and you’re so honest, so real. The rewind, repeat, rewind, repeat and the tests of endurance reminds me of this poem by Portia Nelson that I find very inspiring:


    I walk down the street.
    There is a deep hole in the sidewalk
    I fall in.
    I am lost … I am helpless.
    It isn’t my fault.
    It takes me forever to find a way out.


    I walk down the same street.
    There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
    I pretend I don’t see it.
    I fall in again.
    I can’t believe I am in the same place
    but, it isn’t my fault.
    It still takes a long time to get out.


    I walk down the same street.
    There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
    I see it is there.
    I still fall in … it’s a habit.
    my eyes are open
    I know where I am.
    It is my fault.
    I get out immediately.


    I walk down the same street.
    There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
    I walk around it.


    I walk down another street.

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