* I wrote this during the flow of depression as a way to personify it, in an effort to deal with the effects. It is easier for me to visualize it as battle, rather than an illness. For those effected by this, it can be lonely and I thought this was the best way to send the message that they are not alone. *
I am Ingrid’s Depression.
My gray mornings that greet her are joyless and prepare a night that seems endless. While she lies in bed with her eyes fixed on the dark, I play my hand. I inject my heaviness on her spirit and leave her limping from the weight. It’s that compression that makes her want to be visible and invisible at the same time.
I force in the hopelessness and break her peace, making her cry from the lonliness I leave in my wake. Her dreams are the forum where I feature my wrath that I cleverly disguise with symbols of confusion. When she weeps, it’s my music and my fuel. I know in that is her begging me to disappear with my weapons, guilt and shame. I never go quietly and so she reaches up to the Heavens for a foreign and stronger hand. That is her only rest, a pause so that she can catch her breath before I drag her down to my depths again. She is my random and unwilling victim that I can distort and unbalance.
There will be no peace while her heart pumps, I say. Moment by moment I taint with deep sadness and with it, pain. While she yearns for light, I will avert my gaze and push in further until she wants to escape into forever. I have broken stronger wills and have taken my prize in the end, for my strike is deadly accurate. Relentless in my attack is in the memory of her eluding my grasp once and the beginning of a battle that continues, it has been long and bloody. I have scarred her body, her mind, her heart and her soul but she still rises.
I am Ingrid’s Depression Pt. 2
I am Ingrid’s Depresion and she is my expertise.
I am an expert in the domino effect that I have in her life. Even the ones she loves will feel me, fear me and pity her. And why not? They see me in her weary eyes behind the mask that she insists on wearing. They see me turn her inside out and I show her that failure waits on the other side of her intentions.
My armory of weapons is large and every one is always loaded. I use the tripwire of doubt, the blast og insecurity and the club of regret. Her mistakes are my proof and ammo, only the memories change but the result is that she is in tatters. I love to feel her heart race with anxiety at being seen in such a way, since she spends far too much time trying to be more duable.
Match for match andblow for blow, we fight. It is a war that extends far out into destiny and eternity. Beyond the night skies and shining stars.
I erode the soul and the mind, ceaselessly carving out a hideout to lurk and watch and plan my next move. I’ll wait for the happy occasions, just to remind her that distraction means nothing. My affliction is present in her tear and her smiles. It only plays in my favor when my darkness repels others, her greif drives her right into my arms of oblivion. At times I can move her close to the edge, teetering and numb, too desensitized by my constant presence to feel love.
I am Ingrid’s Depression Pt. 3
I am Ingrid’s Depession and I am her inner churning ocean. It it the fear of falling into an eternal fire that keeps her from sinking too deeply between the crevice of her soul. Even that I will fade into me until only my call can be heard. Her woes and sticky hurts I can form into voices that belittle in chants. Oh, the words that I use penetrate into her marrow reducing her language to sighs.
When my sea receeds, she hopes for a long reprieve that I take note of and file away. She laughs aand smiles and I allow that golden light to disintergrate my kingdomfor a short time. I watch her try to wring out every second before she is hit by wave after wave of blackness.
IF. Books 