The Fight

Depression lies.  Depression lies,  Depression lies.  


Dr. C tells me this all the time.  That depression lies.  It tells me things that are not true, but its voice is so strong that I believe it to be true.  Today is a "depression lies" day.  I am battling that demon in my head that is whispering negative thoughts.  It wants me to be sad, it wants me to fail, it wants to dominate.  I have often compared it to a Lion.  In fact, I have done some creative writing with Dr. C where I have given "the Lion" a personality and tried to express my thoughts and feelings through that outlet.  I thought that I would share one of those pieces for a few reasons...1.  I am really trying to keep blogging daily and I don't have a lot else to say and 2.  It pretty much sums up how I am feeling right now.



The Fight

The book lay open on the floor.  He lazed on his stomach, reading the lines and smirking with each quote.  This was too much fun for him.  He thought that he hadn't had this much fun since he was a cub on Christmas morning.  Eagerly, he pawed at each page and enjoyed the poetry that flowed like a river.  He looked over at where she was.  Happiness filled his chest.  She was just where he wanted, and he took pride in knowing that he was accomplishing his goal.


"Death must be so beautiful," he read to her. "To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one's head, and to listen to the silence.  To have no yesterday, and no tomorrow.  To forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace."


She jerked on the bed, struggling against the prose.  He had shackled her hands and feet tightly; she had limited movement.  She was trying to fight against the sadness that he was pouring into her soul.  Her attempts to block the words were futile, and she felt her spirit shriveling with each stanza.


"I want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and physical experience possible in life,” she spat back at him.  She didn't need a book to recite the quotes.  They were imprinted in her being, and she searched the quickly to find the ammunition that was much needed.  He was king of his craft, however, and she wasn't sure how much longer she could go on.


He snapped his head up.  Anger boiled in his blood.  How dare she try to combat his words!  He quickly turned the pages is search of more poison.  "I couldn’t see the point of getting up. I had nothing to look forward to.”


Each word pierced her soul like a dagger.  The tears flowed down her cheeks.  She kept telling herself to fight, that she could not give in.  She must continue to fight.  The handcuffs dug into her flesh, but it was not the outside pain that she was worried about.  Those scars could heal.  She needed to protect what was left inside.


"I must get my soul back from you; I am killing my flesh without it.”  She breathed the words heavily, feeling like she was being choked with each syllable.


He took a moment to look at her.  So sad, he thought.  She didn't have a chance and yet there she lay trying to fight against him.  At least he had picked someone with spunk, he mused.  If he had selected prey that would have just rolled over and died, well, that would have been no fun.  He turned his attention back to the book, and searched for the next quote.


"I have taken a pill to kill the thin papery feeling,” he roared.


Her back arched, the words burning.  Her defenses were weakening, she knew that she couldn't take much more.  One more, she thought, I only have energy for one more.  She would have prayed that it worked, except she didn't believe in the power of prayer any longer.  It had been too long since any of her prayers had been answered that she found the act pointless.  She lifted her head and looked the Lion right in his eyes.


"I think I made you up inside my head.”  She collapsed back on the bed.  That was all she had.  She couldn't speak; she could fight no more.


He leaped from his spot and pounced on top of her.  Straddling her frail being, he looked down at what was left.  Just a shell, a wisp of where a woman used to be.


"All I want is blackness. Blackness and silence.”  The words flowed from his tongue.  Pride swelled in his chest.  He took a final swipe at her body with his paw to make sure she was done.  She made no movement.  He retreated to his corner, curled into a ball, and rested his head on the ground.  He had won.