Dear depression, the first time I met you is when my father would scream and yell, making me hate and spite myself. You stayed there with me when the father I still loved left for another woman. You, traveling by my side until my friend was lost in the abyss of souls. You breathed sweet words of relief and I did not listen. You stayed with me when all of a sudden a new friend of yours found me.
Eating my insides and crawling in my skin, like the parasites you are. Chaining me down to the Bottom of the ocean to drown me. Your cold hand wrap around my throat and slowly grip tighter and tighter.
You again sounded the sweetness of relief,
I have 10+ projects, not completed, hanging around my room. I can't seem to 'finish' anything...... I usually do 2 or 3 at a time. I come across a good color that I am mixing for the first one but doesn't quite go with what I am trying to do. So, I start another one.
Please tell me everybody has this problem.