Depression

The whispering twists, fades, and re-emerges to wrap itself around and through my ears. Nails on a chalkboard, they taunt and tease. Voices I know, voices I’ve never heard but always dreaded, all pulsate and pound in my mind. The shouldn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t and won’t pile up, dead-falls waiting to collapse.

The laughing, low and sour, or high and mocking, tumbles past my ears, down my throat, to land hard and sickeningly heavy in my stomach. There, it churns and burns, burying my own mirth in leagues of acid sea. The acrid odor of memories long buried sting my nose, bringing tidal waves of tears pouring from my eyes.

Chills and fevers alike burn my face, my arms. Logic flees, flinging its arguments aside, to lay leaden and ineffective against the gnawing, starving beast of perceived failure. Flaccid pride simpers and wails against the rhetoric of mindful knowledge.

The beast rears its head, reveling in its victory, the crushing mire that overwhelms my being. It undulates in satisfaction at my immobility, my passive, silent surrender. The beast has won.

For now.

But still, unknown to the beast’s salivating hunger, a flame lies hidden. Biding time until the beast is quiescent, slovenly arrogant in its supremacy. The fires still burn, joyfully preparing for the next cycle, the coming time of its ascendancy.

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3 thoughts on “Depression

  1. A lot of things I like about this piece. Including the fantastic word choice throughout. The ones that effectively caught my attention were whispering (which helped set the mood), mirth, acrid, gnawing, perceived, simpers, silent surrender, and slovenly. There were actually several more, but whether they helped the tone of the story, or the way they were used in a phrase that created a twinge of recognition — it was just really well done.
    But the other part I liked was depression being portrayed as a separate entity, a beast. And logic, whether it flees or sticks around, it’s as you say ineffective. But “the fires still burn” — a flicker of hope.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Depression, I have found, is truly unknowable unless you suffer from it. I do. And have most of my life. The beast has pounced this week, setting its claws into me, which would normally send my flame slinking away to hide. But I think, this time, I had enough of a creative conflagration going that I might possibly recover sooner than usual.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. It’s interesting, for the longest time, I didn’t know there were people who had never experienced depression. I thought, for sure, people were at least familiar with situational depression.
        It’s nice to know that the glimmer of hope that you left at the end is a reflection of the genuine glimmer in your life.

        Liked by 1 person

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