The bad days

I still have them. Today seems to be one. No matter how hard I try to keep the abyss at bay it's always lapping at the back of my mind and every once in a while it comes flooding in like the Mississippi through a broken levy. When it does it washing away everything with its destructive force. The progress I've made becomes meaningless and it's once again a struggle to simply function. I've finally accepted the inevitability of these floods. It's never a matter of if but rather when they will happen and just how deep the murky water will get this time. I find it necessary to cling to anything that floats, no matter how small in order to keep my head above. To keep from finally sinking into the blissful abyss that beckons. To escape into the dark, thoughtless, emotionless and uncaring oblivion of depression seems, at times, a welcome escape from life. Though having delved there often in previous years I know this not  true there is that part of me that yearns for it, that so desperately wants to surrender. I despise these feeling and they laugh knowing they can so easily take control. They are the monster under the bed and there's no parent to turn on a light and scare them away. The only choice seems stay in bed and hope the monster finally tires or finally eats you. But the monster does neither, it simply reminds you it's under the bed.

There are times that I believe depression to be the worst of any disease. For many there is a cure, for others an inescapable conclusion, depression continues. There are some things that seem to lesson it, others that keep it at bay, at least temporarily, but it is always there. The one never ending constant in life. It is rather fascinating in that aspect. How one crossed wire in a brain can cause one to wander through life either floating in the abyss or running from it. Or there are some I suppose who run toward it, leaping head first from the most convenient point and entering the darkness with barely a splash. There are times I envy such people. To embrace the madness and let it have its way must be, at least in the short term, both exhilarating and empowering. Sadly, I know neither of those emotions are long lived. Nor is the person who takes that dive. What though is the other option? To fight, to struggle, to simply exist in hope that someday things will change? And yet knowing they never will. Yes, there are the good days to look forward to yet the bad seem always inevitable and sneaky. Like a mouse living in your wall. You know it's there, you hear it squeak on occasion and you never know when it's going to come through the wall, steel the cheese and shit on the counter. I hate that fucking mouse.