A Soul Split in Two

If you’re looking for an onslaught of lightlessness… you have found it.

Depression.

I hear the word sputtered and muttered from inward lips, but it’s a fallacy of the moment, cryptic, but not crypt.  The word is mentioned negligently, like ‘love’ on a prom night’s eve.  Often misconstrued for its derivative, feeling depressed doesn’t make you an expert on the subject, though I’m sure you’d like to think so.

Depression isn’t “Goth; it’s not a trend and it’s not lamenting the loss of your dad or your best friend, it is but a demon that lies dormant, sheltered within your shadow that becomes taller and stronger as you weaken from beatings both physically and emotionally.  Depression is a metaphor and nothing more; a personification of sadness. It eats the warmth you receive and defecates out humility.  Finds pleasure in your failures, sinking its claws deeper as it burrows and grows within your soul. 

The older you get - the more you suffer - the more you suffer - the more control it has - the more control it has - the more powerful it becomes, and so on and so forth.

Depression is not a word. It’s a living void.  As real as you; an entity of emptiness born of loss and fed with thought.  Like faith in G-D, it exists in us all.

It’s like suffering with multiple personality disorder, only you are aware of its existence.  A soul split in two and there’s nothing you can do.

With one body and one mind selfishly sharing time eventually you’ll bruise or bleed to let it free, but why should it leave the caliginous confines of its mother’s womb when you consistently feed its insatiable hunger exactly what it germinates in the secular furrows of your brain?

Feeling depressed is but a taste of something you can choose not to eat again; it is the evolution of sin, not depression.

A disease to which there really is no cure, containing it in a cage is like keeping the homeless poor, and like creeping cobwebs with venomous legs we exist in a lifeless world between billions of flickering stars knowing in our hearts that if it weren’t for us, their brightness would lack much of their lust.


By: Jaye Eryk
Copyright ©2009