Some call it a fog. Others may refer to it as a black dog or even a darkness that takes hold. No matter what words are used to describe depression, the fact remains, there is no mistaking it. But what if one day it took on human form, and arrived on your doorstep? What if one day, instead of something you felt, it became an entity that you could physically touch? Would you lash out? Or would you want to get some answers? This is what I would want to know…
Depression, why do you affect the way I see myself?
I don’t like seeing myself through your eyes. I look old. I look tired. I look like someone that I barely even recognise. So to avoid feeling worse I don’t look. I can’t bare to look until I know you’re gone. Why do you make me recoil at the sight of my own reflection? Why must you be written all over my face?
Depression, why do you make me say things I don’t mean?
I am not a hateful or spiteful person. I am not somebody that enjoys seeing pain on the faces of my loved ones. But in your company I become reckless with my words and with the feelings of others. That is not me. I care about people. I care about the ones that have been there to help me wrestle you to the ground when you’ve had me in a headlock. They are worth more to me than anything you could ever take away. I will not push them away just because of you, so can you please mind your language?
Depression, why do you ruin the things I love?
A day without music is like a day without breath. But you don’t seem to like it. You are numb to my favourite melodies. You don’t care about amazing memories that come with each song. You make everything sound dull, lifeless, monotone. You only like the sound of your own voice. You don’t enjoy food. You don’t like my friends. It’s always about what you want. Why can’t you at least meet me halfway?
Depression, why do you show up when I need to be at my best?
Your timing is never good, but never worse than when I need to be on my game. When I need to be somewhere important. Do something important. Speak to someone important. You show up at times when I need my confidence, and wreck situations I could otherwise handle in my sleep. You make me go back on my word. You force me to let people down. Do you have to be so damn inconsiderate?
Depression, why did you choose me?
What is it about me that stood out? Why did I look like someone that could carry this load? Were you sent to test me? Break me? You’ll be pleased to know that, at one time or another, you’ve achieved both. Whatever the criteria, I hate that I meet it. I wish I could send you packing once and for all. You don’t deserve the company of others.
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