dear Depression,

i write to you. do not judge me for my lack of grammar, i am not a book.
i do, however have something important to say if you'll lend me your ear for a brief second.

it is truly sad how we undermine you Depression. your name is thrown around so lightly and playfully at times even by me. i cannot fathom the destruction you have caused, the storm you have released upon so many lives. you are darkness with no light, no bright side. you devour us like a hungry wolf and still come back for more.

try explaining to loved one's the feelings pulsing through you during an attack by the ol' mighty YOU. there is no fucking explanation and yet we're regularly asked, "are you okay?" to which we respond, "no" though unable to explain why we are not okay. or we respond "yes" simply. easily. yet the turmoil buried deep within is rising to the surface. that black hole we run from is slowly catching up and all we can do is stop, turn around and let it consume us because we know there is no where to hide.

getting out of bed to face the day is burdensome. with a rueful demeanor we drag our feet to the shower so as to not smell of yesterday's defeat. repulsed by friends and family we avoid contact by any means and then wonder why no one's calling to ask how we're doing. do they not care? alone we meander through the motions of the day wishing it would end so that sleep would consume us and reality would dissipate for a few short hours. only to wake up to a light that burns to the core. and so we crawl back under the blanket and cry.

why, Depression, why? it is a simple question. how do you finger us out and play at our strings. you, the great puppet master. why do you insist on humiliating us? we hide our mirrors because our reflections reveal an ugly portrait of you. we avoid feelings because you've made it impossible to feel anything but horrible. ugly. disgusting. worthless. hopeless. tomorrow is not another day when you are present. tomorrow is another door to hell with our name's printed ever so lonesomely on it. lonely. alone. isolated. forsaken. solitary. the only friend we possess during your massacre.

but boy do i have news for you Depression. your lifespan is limited. although you do not see it you provide an awareness, a sense of expanded consciousness. you provide a realization of truth. because no matter how hard you try to gain friends during your massacre, you will always be alone. you either kill or give life. the former and latter leave you without, leave you wanting. there will come a day where we see a flicker of light, of hope. where we'll take hold of a loving hand and be encompassed by a warm embrace. our cold blood will run hot, igniting a passion within us. igniting a fire that was smothered by your poisonous affection.

ah, there will be a day. just you wait and see. you are alone old friend. you are alone. and we, we are awakened by your touch. though scars remain, memories etched, we have tasted hell but we now walk through the cancerous fire with a thirst for a life. we do have something to say. we do have lives to touch and children to birth. passion to be felt, loves to be had. without doubt we know we'll cross paths with you again, and though we may not be prepared for it, there'll be that flicker.

and that flicker is all we need.

sincerely,
anonymous.