Deep ressions

Some how during the night you got up to close the shades in your room. One would think, how sad, he went and made his room completely dark. But they don't know do they.

Seeing as the shades being closed means that at some point during the night you got up from bed and closed them. Which, aside from relieving yourself and getting the occasional glass of water, is the most moves you've made in the better part of a week.

That's the funny thing about bouts with depression. Small victories even in the sense of moving around are enough to perk you up just a tad.

Taking stock of the current scene that is this room, you see a bed, clothes, a television, and a few empty drinking glasses. The bed, which you are still currently laying in, is disheveled to say the least. The fitted sheet lost hold on the upper corners of the mattress somewhere around 72 hours ago. You Haven't really bothered to replace it. The covers themselves change position often. Never really returning to a place remotely considered exceptable. One or more of the pillows have been discarded to the floor.

The clothes pile consists of mostly dirty laundry. Recalling the last time they saw the inside of the washing machine is difficult at best. Worn once and then discarded. After a few days, you pick up that very same shirt, give it the "I'm gonna smell this and if it's not bad I'm gonna wear it" test.

The tv itself was unplugged days ago. Not really interested in what it had to tell you, you decided it's be better off without electricity. Besides, it was too bright in the middle of night if you left it on. Always blinded when you couldn't fall back asleep.

As for the empty glasses: they should be pretty self-explanatory. A few bottles of wine needed the company of good glassware. But now, all the wine has up and disappeared and the glasses serve no purpose. The thought of washing them has crossed your mind, but all things considered what's the point?

On top of the current situation, you've missed three days of work. Which, you don't really mind. But on the other hand you feel shitty for leaving your coworkers hanging. It's not their fault your sad or depressed or lazy or whateveritisyouthinkiswrong. They suffer your work load while you just lay about in your batcave of a room for days on end.

To put the cherry on top of this banana split, if you were to be asked why your so depressed, the only answer you could give them is: I don't know.

The list goes on and on, scan through the rolodex of past life scaring moments that you fake smiled your way through. Telling yourself, everything will be alright. It'll all work out.

But you know what you found out laying here all this time? That most of the time it won't be alright. It'll actually be completely fucked for a long time. There isn't a lie in the world you would believe in this instance to make everything ok. That's just how it is sometimes though, you get so sad so crushed that it all makes sense.

This is the cycle you deal with. Every so often you break down. Probably not the healthiest way to get through these things, but that's how it is. It all gets better in the end.

Once you do realize it will be ok, it will be alright, even as fucked as it could be; you'll make it out alive. Outta this bed. Outta these clothes. Outta these bottles. Outta this room.

Everything is alright, and you'll be ok.