deepundergroundpoetry.com
this is contentedness, i guess
you know, i find it funny how people tend to associate depression with darkness and grey, and silence, and nothingness and in most cases i'm sure they're right but my head is always filled with, everything, with distant birdsong and bright, too bright, colours, a green field so vibrant, it is louder than my thoughts, the treeline with endless potential never to be explored. a comfortable escape where i sit and smile at the clouds, and by now, i greet suicidal thoughts like an old friend, with a handshake and a smile and small talk and suggestions back and forth of how to escape this monotony for a while like maybe going on holiday, or on a cruise, or dying. the possibilities are endless, it tells me, plane tickets hotel bookings too many pills. we laugh, because these are just possibilities, coffee cup dreams and i can survive in monotony a while longer.
people say depression is just grey and nothing and more grey, but i sit and talk with my tendencies inside of a brightly lit cottage that sits in the middle of that impossibly green field underneath perfect blue skies that exist nowhere in this world
people say depression is just grey and nothing and more grey, but i sit and talk with my tendencies inside of a brightly lit cottage that sits in the middle of that impossibly green field underneath perfect blue skies that exist nowhere in this world
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