Deep, dark kak place

I hate what this does to me. I think that’s what this is. This malevolent thing with tentacles that creep and crawl underneath my skin and grab hold and then start sucking my life out like Harry Potter’s dementors.

That's it. Yep. Right there.

How utterly fucking self-absorbed it makes one. You feel yourself seeking deeper within, trying to focus outward, to see everything else in the world that’s worse – Norwegians being killed by a fundamentalist, a drug addicted singer burning out. But that only seems to fuel it.

It’s the grey jelly all over again. Stuck in the middle of it, looking at the rest of the world, screaming for aid but no one can hear because you’re in the jelly. Grey, that dull nothing non- colour. Even black and white turn away from it in horror. That’s where you’re stuck.

You then try screaming to yourself, try to will yourself out of it only to have a counter-voice of hate shout back even louder “You can’t!”

Ok, shut the fuck up. Isn’t this BS? Now all the voices start shouting over each other, making your head hurt. Your blood pressure starts rising. The lump starts to form in your throat.

You know it’s time to escape to a quiet place with walls. You run to the toilet, sit on the bowl and bang your fists on the walls, momentarily feeling more pain in your hands than in your head.

That’s better.

That’s depression.