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Rated: 13+ · Draft · Emotional · #2188078
A letter to a personified, Mr.Depression
The Bully. .Dear Mr. Depression, .I believe the time has come for you to know how I feel about you. .You are smug and so self assured, beaming with confidence, paid for in full, by the misery and suffering of others. Try as I might, to reach a number of times you have hurt me, had me truely believing I didn't deserve life, I fail to reach one. But then, why count waves in the ocean, or grains of sand on a beach. . So often I've questioned my own sanity, filled to running over with despair and pain, all sponsored by you. I sometimes wonder about that pervasive entity, practising the cruelty of granting me entry into this world, missing a vital piece. . But it's always undeniably been your fault, now hasn't it Mr.Depression. How could you possibly believe, I could owe you anything, when all you ever did was take from me. Constantly draining from me, any form of confidence, happiness or love. Many times reducing me, to the smallest little puddle on the ground, for everyone to walk on. But you may do well to remember this Mr. Depression. That is, even the smallest puddle on the ground, may very well see the largest of soul trip and fall. . I've recently come to realise, that you are nothing but a bully. You are a scared, second rate, pathetic parasite, always sucking the life and strength from others. Ha ha, all this due to you not having any real power or strength of your own. You are an opportunistic infection, latching on, taking advantage of every single emotional bruise or cut. . I bet you never considered the possibility, that I would learn your secrets, every bit as much as you know mine. I refuse to fill my heart with hate for you, Mr. Depression. Hate would only ever serve as another small victory for you, as you spread hate and fear like a disease. Thank god, I'm nothing like you. .No longer will I be locked up by you, enslaved by your will. I have finally caught on to your secret handshakes and door lock combinations, to let myself out, and escape my cage. .I take back every last bit of energy, I ever gave you, and absolutely refuse to hate those, who have destroyed me. That's the last door lock combination, isn't it Mr. Depression! You really are quite the cruel puppet master, always recruiting others to damage me, and do your bidding. No doubt you used these poor souls, just as much as you used me. Perhaps these tortured souls, would have resorted to indulge your every request, to quieten the demons screaming in Thier own heads. Also put Thier by you, I might add. .I have no doubt, you gained some kind of perverse pleasure, being my captor, and even eventually having me need to turn to you out of desperation. One may be curious as to why I would need to turn to you at all, especially after the pain you have brought to me. But those people have obviously not ever experienced being locked up in a long term mental coma. To awaken, being able to see the true beauty of colours again, and to Feel the sunshine on my cheeks. The warmth of its pure and beautiful rays emanating through the very depths of my soul. .But hey, let's not forget your overwhelming talent for torture, for you really excelled in this area, now didn't you Mr. Depression . How many times, did you deliberately leave my cage door open, hoping I would have The audacity to attempt an escape, and have you swat me. .Up until now, with my cage door open, I was always too frightened to even try. Up until now, your insurance policy of always having my wings clipped, making it impossible to fly, had kept me a prisoner of my own fear. But conversely, even caged birds still sing. Perhaps you saw me as a little fly, caught in your sticky web. A tiny desperate little fly, buzzing and thrashing, becoming tired from efforts of trying so desperately to free itself. I guess that would make you the spider, watching and waiting for the little fly to tire, so you could deal out the lethal blow. But I know your secrets now, so you will never imprison me again, or have a hold over me ever again. So in closing, Mr. Depression, you can kiss my arse.
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