A Note on Depression

When I was only a little boy, my friend spoke to me of a treasure hidden beneath a willow tree in our backyard. In my curious state of mind, I purchased a shovel and began to dig.

I dug for what seemed like an eternity, completely unaware of the passing of time. But one day, I was unable to dig any further. Thus, for the first time in years, I looked up the precipice. Reality began to dawn on me then, and I realized that I had dug myself a very deep hole, one that I would most likely be unable to get out of.
So consumed by the idea of digging I had been that the purpose behind my actions was forgotten, hidden behind a veil of memories I had once vowed to leave behind. But even when the purpose re-emerged, there was no treasure to be found.
And now I am reduce to a senile man, nearly blinded by darkness and unable to take even a single step. In this kingdom of solitude I have created visions, I have seen specters from the past, reminding me of all the wrong deeds I have done. These phantoms appear to me in many different forms: from the loves of my past to human begins whom I simply detest. At times I push them away, but other times I embrace them wholeheartedly. The important thing is that here, amidst all this darkness and chaos, I control these phantoms. I am the king and they are my subjects, for here in the dark, I rule with an iron fist and a strong will, even as a man who is on the verge of death.
But when I look up, I am reduced to an insect, a mere bug struggling to swim and survive in his own pool of misery.

From down here, I can hear people walking upon the surface of the earth. Their voices travel all the way down this well and lands at the doorstep of my ears. I am not able to touch them, for they are too faraway. But that does not matter, for they were faraway even when I tread the same path by their sides.

From down here, I can hear the echo of their laughter reverberating within the walls of this well, and a tear rolls down my sunken cheek.

From down here, I witnessed the death of my loved ones. The sound of their weeping passed through the opening of the grave upon the crest of the wind, caressing my earlobes with its icy fingertips. I screamed and screamed, but my voice never echoed, my sympathy was silenced.

From down here, I heard the church bells chiming. The love of my life allowed another man to enter the fortress of her heart, and the man walked the same grounds I had once tread, but behind him the gates of the fortress closed. He remained within the walls while I sat outside the fortress, hoping that one day the gates would open again.
From down here, I can feel the earth above vibrating beneath the feet of men and women and children. But in this pool of light I sit alone, looking up at the big blue sky through the small hole that once served as an opening to this eternal grave.
I still await that treasure to appear before my eyes. I still await the moment where I get to hold it in my hand, caress it, feel its textures, and allow it to show me the unspoken truths of life. The treasure must exist, it must be here somewhere, hidden beneath layers of mud.
It must be.
I close my eyes and fall asleep in this grave, dreaming of kissing a girl underneath the dome of a blue sky, where the only truth is contained within her smile.
After all, dreams are the only sources of solace for a man who sleeps in a grave.

Reviews

[ExquisiteEyes]

A really nice write up. A topic like this is tacky. But you have written it really well. I don't know if it was based on your personal experience or not but I have been there and frankly speaking, this is one of the most accurate descriptions of depression.

[Mahan]

Thank you so much. It is an issue I'm personally dealing with right now, and I thought I would write something that could appeal to people who are also having the same problem.

[Aubrin]

Oh, wow. This is exactly what it feels like, every day. Thank you for putting it into words. It's beautiful. :)

[Mahan]

Thank you for the comment, I'm glad you enjoyed it :)

[.]

-- i really like the flow of the narration -- you've tackled a difficult subject with a lot of skill and sensitivity... -- the image of digging and the way the narration takes the image to the concluding line is very skilfully done... -- the emotions of the narrator especially in the "church bells" paragraph are very moving... -- overall, an excellent piece of writing... -- it's great that you wrote it and shared it...

[Mahan]

Thank you so much for your kind words! I'm not always confident in my own writing, so your positive comments mean a lot to me.

[.]

-- you're very welcome... i meant every word...