Dear Depression

Dear Depression,
Hello old friend! I’m writing to you once more. Thanks for this last visit. I never know how long you are going to be in town. Or when you plan to stop by. You are one of those “drop in friends.” I enjoyed all the activities we did over your visit. For instance the emptiness feeling that overtakes me when you’re here. What’s the point of living attitude when you’re with me. All the sleepless nights that you kept me up chattering in my head. And all the money I save on food since you do not like to eat, and I am not a rude host. You’re my neediest friend. Depression when you are around you take all my attention away from others. Your behavior sometimes scare me. Especially when you want me to stay in bed for days and days and not let me see or do anything. Sometimes I feel like you have strap me to my bed so that we can stay together. That’s not cool Depression. Depression you are like a cool kid smoking cigarettes behind the school with sunglasses and a leather jacket. And I am the nerdy sheltered kid who wants to join you and your friends Addiction and Anxiety. But I didn’t know that I should have stayed away from you. Soon enough I found out that your mother is friends with my mother and soon we were going to be friends also. When you come to me and we spend time together it feels like… Like I woke up to smoke everywhere. I search and search for a light. But it is hard to breathe and I start to panic as smoke starts to drown me. The nightfall hits and I calm down. I breathe in the smoke hidden by the darkness. Soon it overtakes me as it is winter and I am numb inside and out, confused and hopeless I wait for a person to come save me. Days go by and I am stuck in this darkness. As if I’m stuck in a pitch-black cave. I yell “hello?” To see if someone is also there. Let down yet again I lay in a puddle of water and wait till it ends, it’s the waiting game to see who gives up first you or me. Nights and nights go by to you holding me. It means nothing because I feel nothing. Playing the ukulele seems as pointless as taking a shower. Leave me here to pre rot I insist. I distance my friends because they have never been a true friend like you Depression and that’s all I need. Friends ask where I have been? Are you okay? Like they really care. Pathetic all of them I state, as I am going on my second week of laying in bed. Finally what seems like centuries in a foggy haze go by. And I am forced to get out of the house and do things. The more I do the less I see of you, then you start to fade away and then you’re gone for the time being. I know you will come back shortly. You are a part of me like a sometime functioning organ. My therapist says you are no good for me Depression. You just are some fungus on my feet that needs to be removed. They say I’m in an abusive relationship with you something like Stockholm syndrome. But she doesn’t know how much worse it feels when you leave me. Or that I am nothing without you. Or that when you leave I feel like I’m losing a piece of myself, I know how absurd that seems. She doesn’t know what you help me conquer. She doesn’t know that you do love me in your own twisted way. She doesn’t know that your abusiveness is a form of protection when I’m lying in bed for week’s not going anywhere. You’re the reason for my unhappiness, a crutch because I use you to define myself. Something that I fear to have, and terrified to lose. Please Don’t Leave Me.
-Love always,
Your True Friend.


I follow you through the darkness.

Not sure where we are going.

But anything is better than staying in that dingy rat infested apartment.

We march on like brave soldiers looking for the enemies.

The kind of soldiers that still have life in them before their first kill.

Not knowing what we will find.

Hope is optimistic.

It continues on like this for some time.

During this adventure we figure out who we are.

Which is bloody fantastic.

Most people fake away their whole life to impress people they do not even like.

By this time we stop for the night.

I look into a mirror and see how much time has gone by.

I want to cry, but instead we leave into the darkness yet again.

This time it is a forever goodbye.

Forever Free

I continue to take the pills the doctor prescribes.

Things will get better in due time.

Take one here.

Two there.

Eventually it will get better.

You have to work on the root problem to fix yourself.

Oh how incredibly easy that sounds.

I do not want to fix the root problem.

Yet, I cannot convince anyone otherwise.

I am sure of this.

Maybe my liver drowns in poison.

As I asphyxiate in the street.

As my kidneys kick it.

The best part is killing your brain cells you see.

Each brain cell contains a memory or feeling that is part of my root problem.

I do not want to remember it.

The last time I could feel was guilt and sorrow.

Now I’m labeled depressed because I cannot feel anymore.

This came from my drinking and maybe a predisposition.

Erasing my memories, has been the ultimate sacrifice to become a distorted version of happiness.

One I can live with.

This dystopia you see is my utopia.

Cracked at the seams it may be.

But you only live once and this is the way I choose to be.

So I continue to smoke and drink while I sit in on these AA meetings.

Thinking how I will be forever free at the end of this bottle.

(I am not self harming myself as what this seems to sound like).