The Voice of Depression

It’s is killing me…

Literally.

Heart aching, wondering what I did that

I can’t 

Have the view of paradise,

The feeling of bills paid

With money left to enjoy

And breathe

And feel that all the hard work and sacrifice were worth it.

Abundant invitations, phone ringing, email full.

A plethora of friends helping through the far and few between rough patches

I thought there was enough good and happy

To go around.

Where’s mine?

What did I do wrong?

Will my children be cursed as well?

Why did I bring more into this world of hardship and hell.

Rule following gone wrong, again.

Why do I give until I bleed?

It’s like a drug giving an endorphin rush

A temporary high to replace the void

and hurt

and shame

and worry about what I’ve done to deserve to

struggle

wait

wonder if I can have a little of what

it seems like everyone has, but me.

What did I do wrong?

Where did I go wrong?

When is it going to end?

Because change is not

Making it’s face apparent.

If I could quit, I would.

Have faith, why?

That’s what got me here.

So give until I bleed, fine.

Maybe I’ll bleed out sooner and finally be done

Waiting for my turn,

Hoping things will change

Putting my best foot forward

Hanging on until tomorrow

Or even just until the next moment.

So back into the black hole

of emotional torture.

No one understands

No one can help

No one cares where it counts.

The mask goes back on.