Dear Depression,
It feels like a constant fight for control of this body. Is it you who will take over or me? I the light side, you the dark.
I don’t remember welcoming you into my brain, my body.... If I can even call them mine anymore.
I drag this barely living corpse to the job I hate. Do I hate it, or do you tell me I hate it?
No this job is terrible. I am disrespected and unappreciated here.... It weighs me down even more, allowing you to have a stronger grip on my brain.
Some days I really don’t want to fight you anymore. Some days I just want to give up and let you take over. You feel so much stronger than me.
Show me mercy, please, show me mercy
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