Depression

My depression has changed its character. It is no different in its inherent makeup, in the pain that leads to it, in the fatigue that underlies it. But on the whole, it is completely different as though I am a different person to be thus depressed.

It used to be a forceful, angry, raging beast. It used to push and scream and seek for an escape. It was characterized by tearful fits and angry music to drown out the world. It asked for retribution and some sort of feeling. What it was consisted of a spiteful creature, seeking to tear apart and destroy, to express rage and bitterness.

And now it has entirely changed. It has lost the force that used to power it. It has abandoned the energy which could give it any sense of power or lack of restraint.

Now, it is a fatigued semblance of a mind, the tired remnants of a once desirous soul. It has lost its vigor and gained a more omnipresent despair. There is no desire to move, to express anything, to drown out the world or to release the misery. All that is left is sorrow, a gaping wound slowly bleeding out any remaining life.

I want nothing more than silence. I wish to sink away into nothing, to fall into the void and never look back. There is no anger left, and even the bitterness and misery is disappearing. Soon, there will be nothing left. The tears rain down emptiness, not remorse.

Everything has lost its reason and its power. And there is no fixing it. I've lost the power to move, to change, to care about it. I'm letting myself be washed over by pain because there is nothing left for me to do. No desire remains, not for pain nor for absolution thereof. It doesn't matter.

There is no reason to wipe away the tears. The trails remain, each day leaving more marks. But there is no sense in trying. Perhaps something is wrong with me. So be it. I don't care. I'm not going to move and I'm not going to change it. This listless state of bitterness and emptiness is enough for me. I don't want or need anything else.