Monday, November 28, 2016

Monsters don't live under your bed, they live inside your head. What depression feels like.

This thing is stronger than me. I try to fight it off, but it grabs me by the throat and pushes me against the wall.

Now I’m sitting on the ground and I can hardly breathe. I close my eyes to recover and in the silence I hear the sound of my heart beating. For a moment I think of Poe and of dying a horrible death.

When I open my eyes again, I’m inside a well. My situation is even more desperate than before. The walls are wet and slimy and it’s impossible to get out of here.

I’m ready to give up. There’s no escape. The slice of sky I see above me is laden with grey clouds. That’s the final blow, the final nail on my coffin. I start crying and the tears course down my cheeks and fall on my lap.

And then it starts raining. At first it’s a fine drizzle, but soon it turns into a torrential downpour. My hair gets wet, my clothes get wet and, funnily enough, I feel cleansed. I feel there’s hope.

I stretch my arms to touch the rain and my hand touches something rough. It’s a rope ladder. It’s my ticket to freedom.

I climb up the wall and out into a green meadow. The shower stops and I see I’m surrounded by flowers of many colours.


I smile. Now I know I’ll be able to go on. I know the worst is behind me. 


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