
My mood, as it is wont to do, has plummeted. Concentration is increasingly difficult. Human interaction is being avoided both consciously and unconsciously. I am at that point where I simply cannot be bothered; I am existing more than I am living. I am cast adrift in a sea of futility.
At it’s worst, for me, depression transcends mere mental health; it permeates deep into my very marrow while shrouding my soul in a blanket of darkness
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I am worn down, emotionally exhausted. The energy expended simply being awake, tires me to the point where I crave the oblivion of sleep; except that sleep itself is denied to me. I exist in a cognitive fog. “I don’t want to be” is my internal repeating refrain.
Imprisoned in a cell whose dimensions are those of my own mind, and whose walls are made of impenetrable darkness, I scream in silent anguish.
The world sees my carefully constructed facade that appears both calm and self-assured, oblivious to the turmoil just beneath its surface; the storm that consumes my spirit, the dark cloud that cocoons me in its cold embrace.
KW
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