Why do people compare depression to the darkness... Darkness isn't depressing. It's comforting. It's quiet. It's peaceful. For me, I'm shrouded in a sea of static. That's my depression. It muddies up my thoughts. Any second of peaceful bliss is forever treasured, even as it's lost in the white noise. It blurs my vision, so I can no longer see the faces, just masks. At least when I was locked in the dark, I could see. I could think. I had a true sense of freedom that never comes around anymore.
Chalk it up to schizophrenia, but I believed I shared my body. Not to varying personalities, but lost souls of the damned left to forever wander in the static life. Maybe it was them who... Nevermind. I never had a light to follow, so wandering the darkness with these voices, these people... I never knew their names, so I had given them unique identifiers. Not important now as they've all but left me to fight the inner demons.
What to do... What. To. Do... I can't tell you. The static won't let me. Help is all but out of reach, and I'm all but dead inside. The mask I wear is fading, so it's becoming more clear to you on the outside. Yet, you'll never try to enter. You offer false sympathetic emotion for the sake of saving face. Why, though? Why not be real? I've spent so many years giving everything just to have you toss me aside like I'm nothing.
Alone, I sit. Alone, I sleep. Wandering a world of static noise that always drowns out the serenity I once knew. The peace I once had. It's not darkness. I'm not afraid of the dark... I'm afraid of the monsters that live in the dark... The voices I had felt were to guide me out, really were there to keep me in. I know why, now. I've faced them. These demons.
I never thought it'd turn out like this. My life seems wasted. I can't get out now. Not now, not ever. The static ensnared my every movement up until this very second. Even now it still fights me. It's holding me back. I want to go back. I want that darkness. I miss the peace. I miss knowing where I was and what I was doing. I feel... Undead... For lack of a better term..
Is this life? Is this the curse we're meant to live... No.. There's something else..
Chalk it up to schizophrenia, but I believed I shared my body. Not to varying personalities, but lost souls of the damned left to forever wander in the static life. Maybe it was them who... Nevermind. I never had a light to follow, so wandering the darkness with these voices, these people... I never knew their names, so I had given them unique identifiers. Not important now as they've all but left me to fight the inner demons.
What to do... What. To. Do... I can't tell you. The static won't let me. Help is all but out of reach, and I'm all but dead inside. The mask I wear is fading, so it's becoming more clear to you on the outside. Yet, you'll never try to enter. You offer false sympathetic emotion for the sake of saving face. Why, though? Why not be real? I've spent so many years giving everything just to have you toss me aside like I'm nothing.
Alone, I sit. Alone, I sleep. Wandering a world of static noise that always drowns out the serenity I once knew. The peace I once had. It's not darkness. I'm not afraid of the dark... I'm afraid of the monsters that live in the dark... The voices I had felt were to guide me out, really were there to keep me in. I know why, now. I've faced them. These demons.
I never thought it'd turn out like this. My life seems wasted. I can't get out now. Not now, not ever. The static ensnared my every movement up until this very second. Even now it still fights me. It's holding me back. I want to go back. I want that darkness. I miss the peace. I miss knowing where I was and what I was doing. I feel... Undead... For lack of a better term..
Is this life? Is this the curse we're meant to live... No.. There's something else..
