Depression.

The world is spinning around me. Confusion comes and goes. Confusion becomes me. I am the very incarnation of confusion.

Colors blur and turn into nothingness. Nothingness springs into so many colors. Blur again. And then nothingness again. My eyes are blinding me. My eyes are blinding my thoughts. My eyes are fooling me. My eyes show me things I don't want to see right now: the world. This world. This mad, crazy, little world.

Food has no taste. My tongue has been overloaded with too many food. Or lack of it. I've been led to believe that my tongue is not there anymore. It doesn't let me taste the food I eat. It made me believe that I'm thirsty while I'm actually not. My tongue has deceived me. It says things that I don't want to say. It says things that hurts me. It says things that mocks me. It seduces me with empty words, with empty meanings. My tongue has deceived me. What are words? I have forgotten.

Sounds, are blurred. Blurry. Couldn't understand what I'm hearing. Couldn't understand what people are talking about. The sounds are making me numb. They are making me deaf. They are like music, music that kills. They are making me dead. They are making me insane. Music of death.

My skin, it's the color of death. No life. The very essence of death crawls on it. Numbing me to the senses. I have forgotten the feel of heat. Cold does not freeze me anymore. Smooth surface leaves scars on the skin, and rough surface heals it.

The world reeks of that distinct smell. That smell of decay. The smell not unlike the one in hospitals, that deathhouse. That smell of life ending. That smell of life turning into nothingness. That smell of futility, of eventuality. That smell of death.

I'm speaking incoherently. I'm speaking contradictions.

Somewhere inside me there's something waiting to burst into reality. Yet somehow, it's reluctant to do so. I feel a knot inside my chest. An itch so deep inside my chest that hands alone could not reach. An itch that hands alone could not scratch. A psychological itch. It feels like there's something stuck inside my chest. It makes me feel like I want to beat myself up, stab my chest, rip open my chest, my ribcage, and just let it all out, let that itch, that knot, that something stuck inside myself, go. I just want it to GO AWAY!!!!

I feel as if I have to crawl out of the caves in my mind just to understand reality. I feel like my consciousness has gone so deep into the crevices inside my soul that it has to find its way out. My soul has eaten me alive. It has caged my consciousness deep within its walls. Deep within its ominous fortress. Deep within death.

Boredom and depression. Depression and boredom. A deadly cycle. A bump in the road that you could not avoid. A part of life that you'll just have to accept.

Or is it really boredom? Is it really depression? Or am I suicidal? What are these things anyways? Words have no meaning anymore.

I'm just crying here. I'm just talking here. I'm just screaming here. I'm just being incoherent here. I just wish somebody, anybody, would listen and understand. Would they understand? What is understand? How does it feel to understand?

I just want my happiness, back.
Please come back.
I've forgotten how it feels to be happy.
What is happiness? Why should I long for it? Would I be happy if I'm happy?
Have I really been happy? When?
Should I be happy?
Will it make a difference?
Why should it be different....?




Am I......


Lost?


Am I.......


Irretrievable?


Insignificant?


Am I......


Dead?


Would be nice if I'm dead


Please, I need to know....


Would I really know?


Endless...........