Lately I've been walking through alleyways that lead to courtyards of my past, and are filled with states of mind... depression is one of them; you could say she's an old friend of mine. And the way she lingers is unlike anything else I've ever encountered. It's not an unfair thing for me to claim that the dampening of my being is entirely her doing, but I won't make such a statement. Instead I will fall into the trance that has ever overcome me and become the me I hate seeing me being.
Excavating these circuitries within my head is like reaching for a mentality that can never be watched or read. My reasoning for the abrupt treason is not something that is built up in corruption, but rather the stab in the back I felt when I was in your spaces. It seemed like our minds could rest easy and be in harmony and for a while there it seemed like there was a definite sense of ardency, but you see for a while now it seems like there is an ever growing part of me that's screaming out "I can hardly breathe!"

And don't you know, you need breath to keep on living...

So I've kept on living, eager to find the passion that used to keep me going and used to keep my blood flowing down a forever constant stream, instead of me drowning in the current of the dreams I've never dreamed. Warmth is the thing I seek most in this world and for most of my existence I've been feeling intensely cold, cut off by the hatred that is cascading through your teeth. And, if I may, let me regurgitate a few of the things you have said to me: "You aren't smart enough." "You aren't strong enough." "You would never make a good father. If yours didn't have the time to deal with you, what makes you think you will even bother?" "And most importantly you are the ugliest human being I have ever seen. Both inside and out, you have no meaning."

Now as I said before, you could call depression an old friend of mine, but she was never really all too friendly. She has a problem with being a habitual liar and it doesn't seem like this trend is ending. You see it's really just me. I'm the one who let's depression do her work in me. Sure the world and all of the blackness feeds into her lies, but it's my own thoughts and my own words that turn her clock clockwise. It's not a surprise to me that the implications of my own actions and deeds go unnoticed by those who are just like me. Because in the places I've been and the broken homes I've seen everyone feels like no one could imagine what they're going through, so they wallow alone in their misery. But I've been where you've been and even seen what you've seen and now we sit separately wallowing in each other's misery. And it's because of you my old friend, standing right beside me and blossoming as I decay into the ground you have dug down into so affectionately.

To this day, my roots and yours are intertwined as if from the beginning you had been spun out of not just me, but all of mankind. It seems as if you are bound by nature to work in a cycle and I'm catching on to where you're going next. I am realizing as I am decaying that there is no logic to this nonsense. And I know I have worth... and although it may be undefined it gives me great peace of mind to know that all of the times that you were so unkind were just a big compilation of filth and lies. Depression, my sweet companion, I will no longer give in to you and all you're demanding. You see I'm confident in my friends and family to build me up, and keep me strong, in a way that passes all of your understanding. And my reason is simple: you can only thrive in the darkness and I'm no longer afraid to be in the light. I am no longer afraid of your bark or your bite. And from this moment on, I bid thee a good night.

And as I walk through these alleyways that lead to courtyards of my past, and are filled with states of mind... I see depression all alone, waiting for the next good girl or boy to come along, and sink down within the twilight.