Depression and Wasted Time

The ever present threat of time and the spontaneous Nature of it’s end should be enough to keep moving people forward. Should be enough to make woes and tears wash away, smothered by the creeping light of a new day. One should surrender to the dark magic that is night. Close eyes and allow the mind to purify. For sleep is absolution, a daily cleanse of sins to allow movement forward, up, away. Every person, regardless of simple of exceptional minds, has dreams. Visions of themselves, installed to give them desire to join the wave around them directed for the inevitable, endless, time.

It should not take drugs or therapy to convince one that Sadness is a state of mind, that left unresolved turns into Illness. Like the eruption of Mount Vesuvius over the city of Pompeii, freezing all life in motion , Depression sentences one to a static life. A pause, White Noise. It goes against Nature, the onward flow of life, thus why it all feels so wrong and incredulous.

So why does this happen to minds? Is a depressed mind a malfunction,  freak, something unforeseen and unintended? Or is there purpose for it? Does Nature need a counter-force of sadness to balance it’s scales?

Is Depression Nature’s sacrificial lamb to give the world Greatness?

Yet …

Depression does not deserve such worldly and purposeful literature. It is personal, selfish and weak, no matter how strong the former self was. They become all those things. It’s diversity makes it hard to  diagnose and impossible to rationalize. There is no minority, no race, no gender, religion, nationality or circumstance more susceptible to it’s breath. Like air – it’s everywhere and nowhere all at the same time, and will be exhaled, Natural and transparent. Only, it is infected air, and it poisons, not the body nor the form, but the soul, the heart, the mind.

The ever present threat of time and the spontaneous Nature of it’s end is not enough to cure my mind. I do not join the moving front. There are Fear’s in my world far worse than death, and walls higher in my mind than there is on land. My tears run free as they are drawn out by the creeping darkness of each night. I surrender to the trickery of Nightfall and am haunted, awake and restless. There is no purification, only infection as the absolution mocks my awakened soul. As every person, regardless of simple or exceptional minds, I Dream. Vision myself joining the wave that surrounds me, directed at a future.

But with the dawn of each new day, I am still. I am still, static, and stone. There is no forward. Only Depression, and wasted time.

Sian Alexia

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