Dark Cloud

Let me tell you something about depression. You want to know what it is?

It is a thief. It steals more hopes and dreams than a white collar criminal.

It is a liar. It makes you believe that life isn’t worth living, and that there’s nothing worth doing, or looking forward to.

Depression robs you of your energy, your normal bodily function, and your will to live.

It is an evil, thieving, cheating, two-timing, back-stabbing bastard, who convinces you that everything is YOUR fault, and that you can’t do anything to get out of the depressive state.

It is the echoing voice of every asshole you’ve ever had the misfortune of running across.

I hate depression. I loathe it. I despise it. I want it dead. I want to murder it. Every day I get closer to pulling myself out of this black hole, clawing my way out by my fingernails. Just finding the strength to shower, put on clean clothes and go to work has been my greatest achievement lately. But screw that, because I deserve to be happy.

Screw you, depression!!!! You can’t control me, and you won’t win. I will!


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