The huge, black weight

The depression comes quick. It jumps on your back and glues itself on. You can be black or white, man or woman, Christian or Muslim, gay or straight. Depression does not care. The huge black weight makes you question everything. Why don’t I have any friends. The few I do have can’t like me for me. I’m not good enough for anyone. I’m a hideous, stupid, dull, worthless piece of mass taking up room on this beautiful planet. I provide nothing beneficial to everyone. In fact, I’m the opposite. I’m a burden to my family, my church, my community. 

How can I even enjoy a sunset. I’m not worthy of anything beautiful. The delicate flowers are for others to enjoy. The sweet, the innocent, the heroes who are forced to care for me. 

I wish I were made of dust. The first breeze could destroy me and there would not even be anything of me to clean up. Everyone could then go about life. Never to have me as a burden again. 

This is depression. Taking my thoughts and twisting them so that it wins. 


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