Outbreaks Of a Depressive

Outbreaks Of a Depressive

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Several dawns, I drowned myself in tears, thinking about life and all my concepts... Fear and despair took over my soul for long days, I could not find an outlet for my thoughts, or concrete conclusions about my concepts and precepts, then I took a pen and paper, there were seven pages of feelings passed in clean, hoping to get them organized, and it worked, I found no explanation for everything I feel and think, but I managed to calm the soul, I could organize my thoughts. At the end of seven pages I wrote as follows: It's good to let off steam, writing is more than just therapy, it's a meeting with the soul It's listening to it and putting down on paper what it cries out, it's searching deep down inside, hidden feelings. It is these hidden feelings that disturb us unconsciously and consciously. These feelings of cowardice, fragility, hurt, resentment... To write for me is to stop being dominated by these feelings and to manage them in a way that they don't destroy me psychologically, It is to give comfort to the soul, it is the search for inner peace, for the point of equilibrium. At the end of my words and of my literary vent.
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#254
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"Stanley, if you walk off that ledge one more time, if you kill yourself again, I will not take part in this anymore." There was a huff. "I tried to stop you but you somehow found a way around it. I refuse to try anymore." What did that mean? "Wouldn't take part"? Stanley was curious, he had to admit. And instead of asking, instead of communicating, he casted a glance at the ceiling and threw himself off the ledge for the forty-sixth time. There was a sickening thud and a large, shooting pain throughout his body before the world began to fade. "... Fine. Have it your way." Or, Stanley pushes the Narrator too far and finds himself all alone for four days. TWs will be on the first page. If you don't want to read them since they kind of spoil what's going to happen, be sure to be safe. (Art by @Douxmae on Tumblr)

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