Words of the Deepest Minds

Depression and Anger

Emptiness.

Desolation.

Despair.

A deep, dark void filled only by apparitions of rage and sadness,

A void that not even the brightest day could illuminate, that words can only barely describe.

The void seeps around me, twisting and swirling, infiltrating every passing second of the day.

What is happiness, joy and contentment?

What are these feelings, when you are no longer able to experience them again?

Are they merely illusions designed to mislead?

Are they revenants, ghosts of what you once were?

My laughs are now done out of self-pity and bitterness,

While each of my smiles hides a hollow and wounded heart.

I can feel it.

The bitter, howling call that slips everybody's ear, save mine.

The knife of rage and despair materializes from the void, sliding perfectly into tremulous hands, bathing the darkness in its morbid glow.

I can hear it.

The knife calls to me.

It demands blood, as much as it can possibly taste.

Yet I despair at the thought of anyone else coming to harm because of my own selfishness and pain.

I gasp.

Only one thing for it.

The edge of the blade turns, gleaming in the empty light.

The hungry blade plunging into the core of my heart, its bloodlust satisfied.

The rage eats at me from within, empowering me with the shadows of motivation and energy, fueling myself for a few precious moments, my only friend in the depths of despair and pain.

It parts just as quickly, leaving me with nothing but guilt.

Suddenly, I hear something.

Strange words, coming out of nowhere, calling my name.

I search within me, and the void seems to retreat.

Is that...hope?

The last vestiges of hope deep within me, the final item in the Pandora's box of my soul?

I have to find it.

I fear it may be yet another twisted mirage,

But I must do anything to keep myself going, no matter what.