Bag of blues


When do you realize that you are depressed? Do you wake up one morning and you do not smile? Do you know when you wake up with no hopes? Do you back track searching for that thing that tipped you over the edge? When did your fuse grow so short and your hope dwindled to no fucks being given. Was it last week or last month? You don’t even know …. don’t even remember when you started moving in this emotional slush.

You are being dragged down by life. You communicate with others like an empty shell  in short curt comments and responses… there is no real reason to speak. So more often than not you sit there and stare and completely lose focus. Your attention is pathetic …. you doze  off and zone out and don’t even care to remember where you are. You struggle to be happy. You struggle to be whole.

Music is your savior for it can alter your mood, even if it’s just for a little while. It’s the only drug you need there’s no need for anything more extreme. It rushes through your veins, pounds on your soul and takes you on a ride. It allows you to be someone else or feel something else no matter how faint for a little while.

You do not cry. Crying is for people who feel. You don’t feel. You just are. A walking contradiction because although you are alive you do not feel like you are living. Something inside you is fighting. The flame that you think is dead flickers and every now and then you feel it but it is quickly eclipsed by the smothering dark that is your current situation. You don’t even put up a fight and you love a good fight.

You are alone. You, your books, and your music. Although you feel like quitting you know that something good is coming…. you hope. You are holding out because if you don’t believe that things will get better you would have nothing else. If you don’t have a little faith you have nothing else but a shell of a body and a bag of blues.

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