What My Depression Feels Like

I wish I knew how to explain depression, my depression. Whenever I think of putting it into words all these cliches run to the front of my mind. I have a feeling I won't say it right the first time around, maybe after a few tries I will have gone a bit deeper. 

Oh, off topic, but, after looking at some past journals stowed away in my old room I have realized that when I used to write as a teenager I was more honest, even cruel with myself. I was a straight shooter. And maybe that is because I was so depressed, I don't know. Lastly, it seems, according to my journals, that I've always wanted to be a writer and tell stories. 

My depression. My depression is like a veil, a scrim, going over my eyes, blocking out sunlight, distorting how I see the world. The color drains from everything around me and all I see is a dull and hopeless surrounding dying before me. Nothing has happiness, everything is there because it is, it has no purpose. I go through the day interacting with so many people and things, and yet they all feel grey, colorless, empty, foreign things that don't speak my language. I am alone and the world is lonely. Everything tainted with a dark shadow. 

The cruelest part is that when I'm there in those moments of despair, when everything around me is part of a daily strum with no direction, it is in these moments that I am blinded by my own illness. I can't even realize and or understand what my mind is doing. To me it's not a trick, it's my reality. In that state of mind I am not cognitive enough to see that it's my depression making everything gray and bleak, and rather the world is truly not that way. I can't even tell I'm depressed. To me, it's normal. It feels as if I am on a track, spurring along with no decided direction, rather something is pulling me and propelling my body to whatever is next in the game called, "life," but I do it mindlessly, but not with ease, without motivation or hope. I do it because I know nothing else than this repetitious behavior. 

I just wish I could emphasize more how my mind does not work properly, or how it plays tricks on me, or how everything feels like a silent movie with me on a conveyor belt going through the motions because that's all I've ever known. Being depressed and in that moment not knowing that it is your mind telling you to put the lighted fire closer to your skin is the most frightening and bewildering thing I think I have experienced. It's like being mind raped while you are immobile and petrified. 

During that second when I think about burning myself never do I have the second thought of, "this is my depression talking." It's taken over my sanity. "I should not burn myself not just because it is wrong, but rather because I am in an altered state of mind that does not match what I feel in my soul." I don't trust my mind. In fact I don't even know if I can call it my friend. It frightens me and tricks me as if I'm a fool. No, it's my depression. I am smart, not only with my mind, but with my heart. You might be able to pull the wool over my eyes, and whisper my fatal and upcoming tragedies in my ear, but you cannot take the essence of me, the thing that survives the rubble every time you push me off that god damn cliff. 

I hate you. I hate that you make me think I am nothing. I hate that you make death seem like a peaceful slumber awaiting me in the distance. Just past those trees you will find your happiness. The trees are crowding the good. There's good in there amongst the dark and the only way to find it is through. It's hard, and I hope your mind never wins that battle where it takes you and leaves just a memory of who you wanted to be. Keep going. 

The light pervades. 

What the future holds...some prose

Before I start I'll say, "This is me processing my feelings. No, for now, I will not kill myself."

Each day I walk in
the doorman says, "Hello"
I smile and pretend
telling myself to be happy
act like you are happy,
even though you are not
engage with people
say, "Good morning"
and, again, don't forget to smile
when they look away you can stop
drop it all and go back to your sadness
but whenever someone looks your way
"play it again, Sam."
because you can't let them see it
sucking the life out of you
drowning you to the deep bottom of nothingness
how every day is torture
being there, where they don't want you
dreaming of somewhere else
a place where you can take the next step
but, instead you are here
and every bit of me says, "Be grateful."
good money, nice people, still in the industry
I am screaming, but I am silent
"Get me out of here."
These times, dying feels like heaven
my worries would be out the door
and the anxiety would cease
I'd be dead and silent
in peace
away from adulthood
away from responsibilities
all of you try to help me
but a part of me is willing to leave it all behind
just to get some quiet
because I don't want to be tormented
torn in different directions
pushed one way or another
when I am trying my best to move forward
yet no one will give me a chance
they see through me, my desperation
and I am not good enough
or something else that disqualifies me
so, I think, death would be the alternative
and my will to kill is so little that it won't happen
for now
but, maybe in a year
who knows the landscape of my mind
once again digging for happiness
and coming up with dirty hands
no rubies or jewels
nothing
then you say, "I want to be nothing."
this weight is too great
I can not handle another day
struggling to get by
pulling out my teeth
asking, "Do I look happy now?"
a fool amongst the foolhardy
yet no one kills themselves
it's just me
forever depressed
constantly a mess
no way to move forward
stuck where I am
anxiety ridden
a villain conquered at the end
goodbye to dreams
hello to peace
awaiting me on the other side of
what's good and what's not good enough