Imagine if you were forced to live in a portable jail cell. A dark, dingy dungeon that moved with you wherever you went.
A portable penitentiary. One in which you were inmate, the guards and the warden.
Now imagine never being able to leave that dungeon.
Imagine living your entire life inside of that cell.
Imagine that the whole world sees you as free but you understand the severity of the sentence that you must serve.
A sentence that has no beginning, no middle and no end. Cursed, from birth till death.
I keep you trapped in your own mental prison, but not a shiny new one.
There are no white walls or stainless steel toilets in this prison.
No luxuries from the modern world to save you from your solidarity.
I am a middievil dungeon. One that has enslaved man from the beginning of time.
Stone walls stuffed with the suffering of many, sealed inside of steel bars that never seem to budge.
There is a slow drip from the damp ceiling.
The drops of depression land on your head as if they were dew from the devil himself. Each day leaving the fresh sparkle of skepticism.
Each day another struggle to stand up.
Each day another demoralizing defeat at the hands of your own demise.
You reach out, grasping for whatever you can find, anything to help you cope.
Drugs, alcohol, and sex offer a temporary release but often end up reminding us of the evils we are trying to escape.
You stare into your phone, and then off into space, searching for someone, something more than superficial. But, no amount of social sharing is going to separate you from this solitude.
You feel the answer inside of you as if the key were hiding in plain sight. As if you could just reach down and unlock the door of depression and just let yourself out.
You feel like you might finally get to step outside and know what it’s like to live totally free.
As if there was a magical cure for this disease that devours you, but be sure that this dungeon has no entrance, and no escape.
I am not a place where others can come to visit. This is not a place that others get to see.
I simply am. All around. Inside of you. Inside of me.
Every so often that place leaves us be and for a brief moment we are shown that key.
A key that you think might set you free but its just another false sense of reality.
It’s just another hope that will never happen. A sight you’ll never actually see.
Some days you feel like you may not survive and some days you’ll feel like I might just set you free.
But you would be wrong, I’ll never let you leave.
I am your depression, this is your dungeon and you will never escape me.