Dear Depression, I See You, I Feel You, And No, You Will Not Win

Dear Depression,

Yeah, I see you, you bitch.

I feel you too, that itch that no amount of scratching will ease its annoyance.

You ooze your discomfort into every muscle, and I feel you even deeper in my bones.

You wake me up from what to then was a peaceful slumber and I lay there eyes wide open that it almost hurts willing for sunrise to come.

You never really left, though did you? You just hid away ready to pounce as is your want and I hate you for that.

Nothing helps when you decide to make your presence known, no amount of self-help and for the love of God why does every self-help tell you to take a bubble bath, read a book, listen self-helpers your ideas are full of shit!

Sometimes, you just need a pack of smokes, a bottle of Jack and a fucking good cry, yeah, there it is my version of self-care its not for everyone but hey it works for me.

You feel like a rancid thick fog, wrapping yourself around me at the most inconvenient times.

I can be happy, enjoying life, then bam you hit me as if to say, ‘Can’t have you too happy.’

You never turn up when I’m sad, as then your impact wouldn’t be felt as deep as it does, and that makes you the uber bitch that you are.

I’ve been here so many times with you, you would think I’d be an expert at dealing with you by now, but I’m not.

I taste you in everything, even my coffee tastes rank when you are around. The copious amounts of wine and Jack just taste-off, but I keep drinking them as they numb your pain.

I find when like this I write more than usual, pumping emotions out in ink on paper like the main artery that has been severed and nothing can stop its flow.

I forget to eat, shower, wash my hair as days pass by in a haze of one day to me.

I hear you whispering sweet and sickly words in my mind bringing on self-doubt and a fuck ton of fear.

You really are quite evil, and you have no preference to who you pick on, bold and bright successful individuals to those that are already rock bottom when you appear.

You make me stay indoors as to go outside would be too much to bear. I’d have to communicate, speak in tongues and you can’t have that can you?

The sun usually much loved becomes an enemy to fear, there is solace in darkness, being alone is what you instil in me and like a submissive, I comply.

Then comes the napping, oh the constant naps, that when I awake, I still feel drained, my tank on empty so I fall back into the nap.

The number of plans that I had been so excited about, marked as cancelled in my diary as it all became too much.

You literally stop my life in its tracks, and I hate you for that.

But depression hear this;

Each time you come back I know I get a little stronger.

Each time you come back the fight becomes a little easier to bear.

Don’t mistake my sitting on the floor hugging myself, rocking back and forth as a victory for you, as what I am doing is holding myself together and beating you.

I strongly suspect you may be here for my entire life, but that’s okay, as you see when you disappear for a while, I remember all that you made me feel and do and I work on those pitfalls in readiness for your next visit.

Yeah, I see you, you bitch, welcome back, get ready for a fight as I’m stronger than I look.