Like a sharp pain in my spine, it hits me. A dark despondency thrown over me like a wet towel. Something so dark, not even the brightest star can reveal its true color. Darker than the deepest caves, more sorrowful than the most desolate plains. Isolation through society, but sociable in my thoughts. Physically, an adequate being, but mentally, crumbling to pieces. An unfinished, unstable room with a torn rug and a broken window, standing in the rain, moulding with every hour. A heart beats amongst the sorrow, a steady thumping that keeps the tiny glimmer of hope you have alive. But the cadence ended swiftly, dropping all hope whatsoever. Years pass, and so does society. Now all that remains is a being with no feeling, just numb, a heart used only for keeping the limbs moving. But just like the hope did many years before, all things must end. Including, you.
Depression in Word.
January 10, 2018