It’s like dying and being born…. dying and being born. Repeat.
Life is a sadist psychopath… plunging me into the depths of despair at times and pulling me out moments before I am about to.choke to death. That’s what each day feels like in the jaws of severe depression, when every moment am fighting to see the light, fighting off those scary, monstrous hands that are inching close to my throat every minute …. and am clueless and am growing tired. Someone help me, please!
I’m not prepared… wait! I’m not ready! Stop throwing those massive curve balls at me! I don’t know how to dodge them! Every moment, I am being razed to the ground and before I can even stand up straight and brace myself…. there comes another one soaring threw the haze, life’s hurled one at me again…. I can’t see! I panic! I search for a place to hide!
Wham! I am hit! Blood spurts out of my nose and stains my clothes. I gasp and I want to puke. The smell of fresh, warm blood is nauseating. I can’t breathe. I try to staunch the flow but I am getting bludgeoned from all sides. Tell me how to defend myself! Someone do! I want to scream but no soumd escapes my lips. I want to run but my legs feel so heavy! I can see that monstrous hand again.. with dirt-streaked, pointy claw-like nails. Its trying to scrape my face. Suddenly, it grabs my neck and dunks my head in black, black tar. Or is it muck? I can’t breathe! Surely, am dying!
The stench is awful! My head shrieks in protest…. no! No! I cannot give up! I cannot die… “Fight, you coward!” My insides shrieked at me. And I kicked out with the mad strength of a dying person. The grip loosened.and I resurfaced, coughing, sputtering. But I resurfaced.
Gratefully, I fill my lungs with fresh air. The monstrous hand has retreated but not very far, I am convinced it will return. Once again, to get me, to grip me with its saber-sharp jaws. But I will fight it again… either it will get me someday or I will crush it and finish it off, once and for all!