Depressed

Something is eating you up, it chews your joy, your wit and your willpower. It slowly drains your drive to do things and the yearning to create, to innovate or mend. You lose taste in the things you loved to do.

You no longer have an appetite for food; not the junk you fancied nor the special from your favorite diner. You also don’t want to wake up, you don’t want to clean nor do the simple chores at home. Everyone is a nuisance and every photo on your friends’ social stream is nonsense.

Suddenly, everyone has become your enemy, a bother, the reason you put your phone on silent or switched it off completely. This day you convince yourself that you want some alone moments where it will only be about you and the things you love.

The movies you watch are boring today. The pieces you write are all cleared after two or three paragraphs and the music you listen to evokes this sad feeling that you do not want to listen anymore. Sadly, the sleep you yearned for has bid goodbye concentrating you into this circle of thoughts.

The best your brain can do is to fast-forward you into the future and probe you to check whether you are fit to live in it. It has the nerve to ask you, ‘Are you good enough?’ The coiled head intestines are now burning up with poignant thoughts, pricking your soul with the thorns from your past. Bad memories of molestation, family issues and a bad upbringing haunt you as everything around you remind you of how useless you are.

“Away with you Devil, am better than this.” You tell yourself as you exercise your spiritual power. You turn your head on the other side of your bed and convince your brain that you are only thinking of positive stuff. You think of the many things your blessed with and remember the plight of the many who do not have what you have.

Flashes of kids getting rained on the streets, an outstretched hand begging for a coin and your poorest folk in the village trying to eke a living swim in your brain. You thank God for your life and feel bad that you felt bad about yourself.

You now think positively about yourself, you think of your current position in life and your long term and short term goals. You are excited and think that you are too hard on yourself. You call a friend to meet up but he is pre-occupied. You dial another and another only to find all of them busy.

You ask yourself why you ain’t busy yourself. You ask yourself if you really have friends or are just people who hang around with you when your flower petals. Your brain reminds you that maybe you are trying to fit in, maybe you are unimportant and not good after all. You compare yourself to your friends and for a reason, you see that they have their lives figured out.

The feeling has now shifted to the upper abdomen. You now have difficulty in breathing. You feel worthless, your brain reminds you of your hopelessness. It darts from your past to your future, to the painful memories engraved in your soul, to the very harsh words a loved one said very long time ago, something you thought you forgot a long time ago. Your heart is racing very fast, it wants to get off its enclosure.

You stop thinking. You can do better than hate yourself. You are breathing heavily, your head is on fire and that’s when that wild thought passes, “No, am not going to kill myself. ” You tell yourself. You get out of the house. It is dark. “Have I spent the whole day thinking?” You wonder. You love the breeze, you have to feel it better, you get to the balcony.

All is silent. All but a calm breeze soothes your soul. Your heart beats softer now, it waltzes like soft strokes on a timpani and this euphoric feeling takes you to bliss. There’s freedom, freedom in feeling loose. You remember the last time you had this amazing feeling was when you were high on drugs or alcohol. You changed, you let go of the old and that now saddens you. You look below and you see activity, people stroll, cars maneuver their ways into meandering pathways which gets you off your moment in bliss to a torment in the abyss.

You want to tell the world to shut up. You want to tell the women gossiping below to shut the hell up. The sound of the car horn deafens your ears and reminds you of your financial status, broke, deserted by the dime and filled with grime. You climb up and all you see is a thin line between bliss and the abyss. You have to choose.

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People who commit suicide never want to take their lives, they want to end their pain.

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