A Letter to My Depressed Self
You know, l am fine. In the eye of a storm. I breathe. I’m watching the threatening walls of this storm that jeopardizes my perimeter. But, the air is still so I can get myself together. Bracing for the next wave.
I call for help. But I don’t need one. Left to my own devices I make a plan. Worthless. But keeping me occupied.
I pray. But I am not sure that I’m hurt enough for God to react. Desperate, but too indecisive to move.
I write. I was given the time to. I use it to pass the message to my depressed self. It will be alright. It will be alright.
I talk to myself. Now, between two depressions in a row to infinity.
Hey. Don’t worry. I survived. I am loved. I am being tested. I am being thrown around to see different perspectives. I am being gutted to let the evil come out. I am being suffocated to cherish the air I breathe. I am being haunted to understand the spirits of evil. I am being prosecuted to learn the laws of Heaven. I am being abandoned to value love of others.
Some lives are thrown to the sewers of society so they develop a strong lust for life.
Lust stronger than the wind of a hurricane. Lust that moves the Earth in an infinite spin of destinies. Of every human. In their desperate breath lasting 70, maybe 80 years. And they are gone. Lost in the spin of a crumb in the vacuum of the Universe.
And the walls of the storm are approaching. But I lack the strength. I am not sure I can go through it again. And again.
I remember. I wrote this. It is a manifesto of a life in the eye of the storm. I was ok. I will be ok again.
Now, let me die again so I can live. Another life. Another day.
Story by Tomo
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