Depression. It's the silent killer not many wish to believe in, the reason so many chose death as a way of running from it. And for the longest time - sometimes even now - I fall under that spell. It's so hard to escape it, impossible even. For the longest time I had refused help. I had much rather harm myself, to leave scars on my body, than even whisper the word 'help.' But recently, that's changed. I've finally obtained something that is worth fighting the depression for, and, I suppose, this is describing that.
I remember the crimson
The way it flowed so freely and messily
I remember the relief that swallowed me whole
I remember how I begged and pleaded
I remember crying for help and finding no one
But even when I wished to give in
Even when I was so close to succumbing
Even while my insides twisted and swelled
I still found my way out of hell
I still found my off of the threshold of death
I stared in the eyes of the Devil
I held her gaze whenever I looked into a mirror
I hated that face, the puffy eyes that blinked back
And even while the cuts burned, I never hated them
Just her
The one who was too weak, too selfish, too attached
I hated that monster with such a passion
The way she cut me with her words
Her antagonizing thoughts that floated through my head
She was a nuisance
A bug I couldn’t kill, no matter how often I attempted
She was the monster under my bed
The thing that wrapped its ugly claw around my neck
She was the thing I couldn’t escape
I’ve lost track of the times I tried to kill that demon
I’ve lost track of the times I hurt myself so I could hurt her
The thing that damned me, the monster that destroyed me
She could so easily squish me
But not I her
Never
She had a way with me
She knew how to pull my strings, how to play me like the puppet I was
She knew how to make me an insignificant blot
She blurred my vision so often, too many times
She was the reason
She was why I had wanted to die
The monster I could never control
The Devil who lived within
She was there for the long run
She was there until I had finally said no more
She was there until I chose to live, until I chose me
Fighting depression is so hard, so worthless at times. The only time it ever seems like an option is when something you've wanted for so long is finally within your grasp; when you get the one thing that can offer you freedom. I finally found the thing that matters to me, the thing that has actually caused me to turn to those willing to help.
When will you?
