Depression

is like an old friend.

So familiar, I could just cozy up close and let that dense feeling of self-depreciating pity sink in deep.

I contemplate; stick in my toe and swirl around in the thick, silky darkness.

It’s self indulgent- the closest I’ve been to succumbing to a drug. But I know I can’t stay here. I had my years blanketed from reality. And I cannot take back the hurt I caused others as I insulated myself from my pain.

So I tend to recover quickly now. Hours or days instead of weeks and years.

But like an addiction, Depression is always waiting for me, ready to envelope my hurt, my brain, and my soul should I decided to give up.

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