Depression.

Falling…

Falling…

Falling….

I’m just waiting for the crash. I’m spiralling into the darkness again at top speed freefall. I have no parashoot, and I will feel the crash harder than ever before.

I can feel myself getting closer and closer to the impending doom, the dark abyss.. Everything is speeding so fast around me, yet I feel in slow motion. My life is speeding past me, and I am watching everything go in fast motion yet I can’t catch up. I’m lagging behind. How am I supposed to catch up in a world that is pinning me down?

How am I supposed to free myself from the voice inside my head telling me to just end it all, to end all the suffering?

Fear.
               Ashamed.
                                     Powerless.
                                                                Insignificant. 
 
So many thoughts. Racing around in my bottomless mind. I reach out, try to grab them and eradicate them yet they slide out of my grip. I persevere anyway, until all of my energy has ceased to exist. The thoughts continue to race around, bouncing off the walls in my mind. My mind aches. Every part of my existence aches. 
I walk without really walking, I talk without really talking. Who am I? What is the meaning of my perpetual existence? My mind and body are futile. I am beyond repair. I am not a flat tyre that can easily be replaced, the depression has completely taken over to the point where I can not be retrieved.There is no escape for me, so I shall try to minimise the casualties in any way possible.
My heart is full with love, my mind full with dreams, my eyes full of light. Yet I predict that all of this wonder will slowly diminish, as I begin to waste away.
I am a waste of breath, a waste of wondrous life. I am disposing the gift of life that has generously been given to me and the guilt I feel is incomprehensible. Although I am conscious of this fact, my depression is degenerative. I am not able to revolt against the illness that is crushing the walls of my mind, crushing every piece of me that makes me the person who I am.
I am highly flawed. Isn’t every human? The illness is not only taking my flaws, but also my virtues and my assets. 
I appreciate the world that surrounds me. The birds that sing every morning, the wind that blows, the voices of the people I dearly love, the words on the pages of my favourite books, the feel of my lips on another’s, the sound of rain against my window, the scent of vanilla and freshly cut grass, the animals and insects that roam, walking barefoot through the grass, standing in the rain, warm embraces, comforting smiles, a clear sky. I adore all of these things, and will do so until the apathy takes over.
For now, although I cannot see an escape route, I will try to remain hopeful for my loved ones. I will plaster a smile on my face, I will love deeply, I will feel strongly, I will sing loudly. I will do all the things that I want to do, until every ounce of energy dissipates. 
I will be me.
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