The morning of my depression

The night before was no different from the previous nights in the last few weeks, feeling exhausted and weary from doing nothing. But then, I was hopeful, believing that I would wake up feeling better and with renewed energy, after all, I had listened to several messages telling me anything was possible with the right mindset and I just needed the willpower to overcome it, perhaps I could even work on my assignment.

But all I had the following morning, was a meaningless memory of the hopeful persona I was the night before and my only desire was to waste away in bed. I wished I could at least take a shower or get something to eat from my kitchen in the basement of my apartment (a deed which had become dreadful in that instance), but even these had become for me tedious everyday tasks I could no longer do. And there I was, cradled like a baby in the arms of depression and I couldn’t get free.

I was entangled, and in its grips and my branches would never sway freely in the wind. I had fallen prey to this vine of depression. In that moment, I knew I was never going to come out alive. I needed more than willpower to live, (not mine, but someone’s), I needed someone to hold me up and tell me they would stay with me through this, I needed a constant reminder that I was not a lost cause, that someday, somehow, I would find my roots and blossom again, and like a bird set free from its cage, I would fly and touch the skies.

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