Depression is what saves my life. It serves as my escape from the reality I must bear and encompasses me in a dark cloud, it’s walls thick enough to protect me from the violence this real world projects. When I am in my depression mode, I feel as if I am rotting away, sharp pains resonate through my heart, my mind is in a place where there is no light and my soul is heavy. This feeling is a cross, draped over my shoulders, weighing me down every moment depression takes over me, making me feel protected. I remain in my own world filled with misery and rage, black eyeliner and burnt skin. I have learned to welcome the sadness in my life, because when it comes, all nagging, all disappointments, all concerns, all worries are left behind. The remaining concern is mainly death and a rotting body, which serves to be incredibly fascinating, compared to the latter.
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