Depression Monologue

There are few things I want.

A painless body.
(Once) a painless love...
Mostly...

Peace of mind.

I want strength & stamina.
I want peace

In my existence.

I instead,
Am in some joke of Hell.
Loving into flames and ashes.
Beating my bleeding heart for not being better at
"Loving them".

It is dark in here.
Cold. Lonely.
Fearful.
I fear I will shatter.
No worse....I feel that my life will shatter
If I don't keep my Goddamn
Self, and mind
In check.

She's
Been lost
In demonic planes.
Lost in a sinful world that sponges us disease after numbed distraction.

I bleed,
All over the floor.
All over.

And I know it is a scary world,
Because nobody comes to rescue the weak at heart.

They have to muster everything up, to feed the instinct of survival,
While still everyday wishing so a predator might end it.

I am weaker than most.
Maybe therefore stronger at times...
But weaker, ever still.

I am my own retribution.
And that is a scary thing,
To a demon.
For in itself,
It feels endlessly lost
Forever.

So I call on God.
Yeah. I said it.

I call on God.
I am lost to the part of myself that is supposed to know.

Locked for years in Hell,
Finding bitter sweetness in all avenues...
But torcherous, have those galavants been to an impressionable soul
In a GodDamn spiritual War and Battle!

Fuck! I said it!
Some of us just have different roles.

Mine...
Has been to suffer, to understand.
And to care more, than most.
To take on the energies around me,
And let them kill me as I evade their responsibility.

And I have indulged and numbed the pain,
So that I may mascarade
As one of them.

One of us.

But, my body and heart are withering here Where there is so little love,
And where I have to shine to be the light in a darkness I know not how to escape.

This world is cruel, so as to break down a soul then remind us we are our only salvation.
I can barely breathe here. Let alone, to have to save My Own soul?!
In a world of darkness, so devoid of love?

I....
Don't want to be saved.
I want to go home.
I want to be relieved of this body-
It's headaches.
It's chaos' and emotions.
It's sensitivity, and lack of control.
It's fear.
It's broken girl of a person I am not supposed to identify with somehow.

But I do.

I have prayed for death so many days.
I gather, this is not normal...
But I also know,
The world doesn't care.

It's up to me.
So I try to care. Get scared, caring...
And I'm thinking...
Maybe I should just stop. It's so stressful.
Maybe I should just do what I know I need to...
And stop caring along the way...

It's all an illusion right?
Tell that
To my addictions and my attachments.
To my need to control, and my ceaseless headaches.
I'm trying to tell them...
Trying..
To believe that somewhere in me,
I can stop this hell of a life.

Make it bright again.
Rich.

...trying to believe there is any hope in any of us, worth having faith in.

I've started to think there is something wrong with me.
Chemical imbalance.
Weed addiction to lay that foundation.
Headaches. Pain.
Leading to depression and despair.
Leading to poor diet and energy.

This sound like anybody out there?

In the new shift...I, more than ever, know that it is me, that has to do the changing.
Up until now, everything seems the same nomatter how much I've tried.

Nothing can seem more hopeless then to know I must keep trying.
I fear, I will only find Hell
With my every attempt, as my past seems to have more control than I do.

Hell,
Is all I've known here.

I want...
To go home.