Depression

Things always get better. I know that. That is one thing I always tell my friends when they’re struggling. “I don’t know when. I don’t know how. I don’t know where, but things will get better”. It’s always a lot easier to say. I sometimes spray it, or pray it. It’s always harder to believe it when you can’t see the end of the tunnel, like everything is a funnel into a black hole swallowing you whole until it’s nullified and your brain feels fried from the inside out. You pout all along, hearing “things will get… better”. What if I feel like I’m better off dead…. You know those days where, no matter how hard you try, you just can’t get out of bed. Those are the days I dread. When every wrong thing I’ve said comes ebbing back to my mind, as I sit there petrified, losing track of time, as my body has better identified with a rock, unwilling to move. 

Sometimes if I work my body into a groove, I can kick myself up, and I’m able to free myself from depression’s magnet, and I no longer remain stagnant, waiting to die…. That’s a lie… Those thoughts are never confined to the four walls surrounding the humble abode which is mine, it stays within the four walls, ceiling, and floor the encompasses my mind and THAT… is where the devil spies. I’ve tried to kick him sky high but he always floats right back down to behind my eyes where the river of tears to cry, lies. He pries my skull wide, dying to see what’s inside. Flying from neuron to neuron until they’re all fried. Once they are, he no longer wishes to hide, rather, metastasize to every other region in my body he can find. He is a cancer. One that chemo can not rid from me.

They always said the devil was a beauty. Now I can truly see what they mean. They mean he is beautiful in the sense of he is the king of ripping through your saccharine heart until it gleams crimson from the blood that pours out. You may not like these pictures and images, but what do I care if you’re scared of the monster that I’VE had to live with for 21 years. It’s becoming more clear he is splitting me from ear to ear so I want to write it down before he finishes his job. Which is to take my last sob. He wishes to rob me of my life. 

But I’ll be damned if I go down without a fight.