When Depression Kills

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The first time it hit me was the hardest.

I didn't want to live anymore.

I didn't want to breath, eat, drink or do anything.

I lost all my motivation to live.

I find a distraction.

It was art I used my body to draw my anger.

No matter how deep I go I didn't care.

Every night I prayed and hoped that this will be the last night.

I want to end everything.

I want to be happy again.

But instead I pull my sleeves up and use my arts to paint.

When I see my blood start dripping off my arms, wrist, thighs, everyday I find somewhere new to draw.

I feel alive for a second.

But then I wake up again.

My demons wake me up again.

I wake up to that feeling of shame and regrets.

But I can't do anything except putting my headphones on and crying myself to sleep.

The same story every night of my life.

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⏰ Last updated: Sep 28, 2013 ⏰

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