What depression feels like ~ a moment by moment analysis


What depression feels like ~ a moment by moment analysis

I’m sinking. I must have been sinking for ages but I couldn’t see it. I try to speak but words won’t come. They feel stale, overused and meaningless as I turn them over in my head like worn out clothes. I fall silent, all the things I might once have talked of now long forgotten, like those far off days on a summer afternoon after school, that lose meaning when you try and put those memories into some sort of adult order. My mind stutters, the words dry; there seems no point in speaking them. It won’t mean anything to anyone who wasn’t there at the time, and the memories vanish in a swirl of numbness.

I am eyes, seeing and observing, a pair of eyes in an ocean of nothingness. Some things are too bright, as if illuminated from within by the heat of decay; other things are dull as if a coating of filmy dirt covers them. I know some thing is beautiful but I feel nothing. It doesn’t touch me.

I am ears, hearing and remembering, but for what purpose I do not know. Like an idiot, I listen, trying to catch words in the chatter of sparrows, and make sense of the wind in the trees.

Someone once described to me what taking Ketamine feels like: you’re standing in a long corridor lined with doors. Each door leads somewhere but as you stand, the doors slam shut, hard, one after another. All that’s left is you, in a great long echoing hallway that goes nowhere with locked doors going on forever.

I can’t think. Every word I carve out of the rock with my fingernails, groping all the time for meaning in the darkness, the shape of things familiar and yet unknown. I’m aware of the things I know, but locked away somewhere, and I don’t have the password to open the doors again.

There are tears under the surface somewhere, bitter tears full of self pity and reproach. None of your sweet tears of release. These are pure acid and I will not shed them. They’ll corrode everything they touch.

So I sit, silent and unable to reach out and watch like a prisoner in a tower, waiting in that endless corridor, in the fading hope that one of those doors might not be locked after all.

It’s as close to dying as you can get, I think.


5 thoughts on “What depression feels like ~ a moment by moment analysis

    • Thank you. No one should have to feel this way. No one.
      But it is a tiny bit better today; small mercies but valuable ones.
      hope the same is true for you too.

  1. BITCH

    I went mad as an elephant humping a fly,
    Into the steel river I jumped to die.
    And God cast me from his heaven,
    A roll of the dice, seven, eleven.
    Never mind the river, the poison, the knife.
    Into this world, this fortress of strife,
    I was not meant to silently tread.
    I was not meant to moan and to dread.
    I’m here to drink it up bitter,
    The hilt to the drams.
    The stars will still glitter,
    On the bitch that I am.
    Part of Poems of Thunder/CAROL ANN publishmerica.com poetry pg 9


    My heart is a broken thing,
    Like half of a Valentine candy.
    Be mine, broken one.
    Trace its jagged edges,
    And bleed like Jesus on the cross.
    You twisted me, you tore me, you beat me,
    Like a Rotten Doll.
    Now I am a Rotten Doll.
    Twisted, wry, murderous at heart, bitter as cloves,
    At the core of my being.
    My stockings stained with your careless love,
    And my smile as fake as a plastic rose.
    Your face lingers over me like a polluted sky.
    You twisted me, you tore me, and you beat me like a mangy dog.
    Now marry me, you Prince of Darkness.
    And Reap just what you have sown.
    Poems of Thunder/Carol Ann @pubishamerica.com (poetry pg 79)

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