The Voice of Depression

I don’t want to get up. I don’t want to sleep. I don’t want to face the world. I don’t want to breathe. The don’t wants fill me, and rock me to sleep in a dream I never want to wake up from. Just let me sleep.

Your complaining too much. You sound like a whiny brat. We all have to get up in the morning and suck it up. Your no one special to think the world cares about what you want.

I don’t want to fight the depression. Its song sounds so inviting. Wouldn’t it be better to not be?

who cares about you anyway? Come on really? What on earth do you have that they’d bother with?

I don’t want to eat. I don’t want to work. I don’t want to feel the pain that burns and pulses inside me like twisted hot irons pulling at my soul.

Nobody cares. Just end it. Then no one would have to hear you complain.

The bottle of pills in my room suddenly looks so inviting, how many would it take to numb it all?

But I don’t want to get up, too much work. Maybe I’ll just sit here till I die.

But you have work, you need to sleep. Yes, wouldn’t sleep be so good. To sleep and dream to never come out of it. Wouldn’t that be bliss? Joining my characters in their games?

But you need to go to work. I become annoyed at the thought. Why won’t it just go away.

You need to stay, your characters remain, how can they go on without you?

The depression pulls away, as though afraid of the thought. No come back and stay, I think but it just pulls further away.

The new voice grows, like a dim light bulb, slowly blinding me. Family. Friends. Stories. All flash within. The light was home, the darkness behind, but every light held pain.

I want to retreat, I want to run, but I don’t want to move. How can I live with so much pain?

My feet disobey my retreat and take a step forward towards the light. Step by step I climb. Till the light over rules me and knocks out the darkness and I know I must continue on. I’m the only one who can sing my song.

 

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