The decaying mind

Slumped in a black and tall office chair is a man with a two day old shirt and sweatpants and his hair and face was unkempt to the point where it didn't seem he moved for months. The man had his hands on a keyboard and mouse, staring at the monitor. His desk also had little attention with patches of random items or some wires he forgot to put away and the only real room was for his mouse, keyboard, and moniter. Inside this sad being's mind is something no average man can grasp or even imagine for this man was once a creative man filled with ideas but now it is all decaying, a near war rages inside. For months now he fears he has lost so much memory and so much creativity that he will soon loose himself. Even then through the depression and fear something oozes out but it is trapped by his inability to achieve that something for that something was out of his reach, out of his range of skills and now remains in his head to claw at him until another one replaces it. Soon he believes that he too will decay and become apart of societies overgrowth. Yet there is a struggle and something within his reach and he tends to it as a mother to a child even so the only purpose he sees for this grasp of sanity and remaining past is to cry out for help and to leave trails of his glorious past but no one will answer only sympathize and he knows but still wishes for a day where someone will. But for now as he waits many walk by pitting him and his struggle but as they move past they will never understand what's inside a creative mind and oh how it hurts when it begins to decay.