On depression

Desperation, Prozac and Xanax have stopped working, a sense of heinous loss slowly but steadily creeps to fully swallow my heart, breathing becomes hard. You fight and fight and fight until your will corrodes, what kind of life is this? Crawling from one prison to another, your mind becomes your arch enemy, your denigrator, commands you to end your miserable existence in the most abhorrent of voices, “why the fuck are you still alive?”. He gives you all the reasons in a language Shakespearian, so elegantly put. Rational, convincing, and exploitive. “You will live to see all your relatives and friends make it from one success to another while you stagnate unemployed or in a dead end job, depressed fucks never bloom, you know that, right? You’re not a complete deluded moron yet, however, soon enough, your weak pathetic conscience will hide in a concocted magical world of your making, haven’t you had enough you sad fuck, do you see any light?”

A migraine for your psyche, you can’t retort, you’re paralyzed.

So, more pills and a hope for the better, I guess.


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