There is a fine line between healthily sad and unhealthily sad. Unhealthily sad is depressed. Depression is a dog that doesn’t behave. It is most people dark side. It is the thing I feel most depressed people hate about themselves. Eventually some of us noted as “the depressed” find that we can’t cut out this cancerous chunk of ourselves, it has become vital to our lives. So that small group of our relatively large group do what the next step would be, cut out the life to get rid of the tumor we have to feed off of. Some of us look for a medium to drown it in. We suffocate the monster with something beautiful. A veil to make something destructive so blurry it appears okay. It is a tinted window we force the monster to look at itself and realize its destructive pattern. The problem is that one side reflects the monster to itself but we also believe that looking through to the monster is the real reflection. Sadly, we see ourselves as the monster, the destructor. We are the depression.

The deprived, the suffocating and the depressed. What a wonderful world we live in isn’t it. People ruthlessly pass by each other instantly determine that their life is better or worse than their own. “Worse than me? HA! Impossible!” We all hurt so deeply and find that self isolation makes us feel more important. I feel if all depressed people of the world realized that they weren’t sailing a ship alone, we would be more likely to recover from more problems. But we refuse to accept it. I refuse to accept it.


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