And then slowly my heart sunk. I woke up, and I hoped, like the end of all frightening stories today, there will be a twist in the tale, there will be a red herring, and I will not die. But this was all too real. And I knew I was minutes away from death.
Days before, I had already died once. It would seem like good friends always come through for you, no matter what. But my good friends hid their heads in the sand once I bit the dust. I was left alone. And so I decided to make myself a new friend. Every one needs friend they can call their own. Some times, when the world deals you a bad hand, you have to assume the impossible is extremely probable.
And so I sat down, and I stared at the wall endlessly for hours, neither blinking nor crying. And I felt sorrow, I felt pure unadulterated grief. But I did not cry. I stopped myself from crying, when all I wanted to do was break down into pieces and wish to be able to pick myself up. I let the sorrow build up inside of me. I let the desperation, the frustration, the anger and isolation mold up inside my soul, right next to my heart, my heart burnt as my emotions took refuge near by. My hands shook, as anger very quickly took over every emotion in my brain and my eyes went blood shot. And I realized it was now time to make my new friend.
And so I cried.
My new friend was made out of sheer sorrow, grief and anger. Frustration and desolation gave it a heart. Isolation gave it a soul. My new friend was extremely dark, with red shot eyes, just like mine. Just like an angry friend is supposed to have. He had almost no form except to me he looked like a very dark cloud. His feet never touched the ground, and he seemed to hover inches above the earth, with a aura so dark, it made me blink. My new friend was dense, and he was speechless. All he was was a reflection of me in an extremely dark mirror.
The first few days he simply floated around with me, not blinking, not breathing, emotionless as a rainy cloud. All he did was grunt, and he grunted every time I felt a pang of pain- either from anger or hurt. I did not mind the dense entity follow me around every where I went, even when I slept he would simply stand besides the bed and stare down at me.
Grunting.
After all, a friend is supposed to be a dense, mute, grunting companion.
It was after a few days that I realized a few things. My friends came back to me. It grunted. My girlfriend came back to me. It grunted. My family accepted me back. It grunted. Every time I heard it grunt, I felt grief, I felt anger, I felt frustration all over again. I felt trapped in an overwhelming sense of guilt, every time it grunted.
I was unquestionably trapped. I tried my best to smile after things became alright again. I tried my best to keep happy thoughts lingering in my brain, when fate decided it was supposed to be nicer to me. When things were happening as I always hoped, I could feel no hope. My new friend was now getting denser by the day. Its eyes, coal shot red, widened by the minute. And with each second, I could see a very thin smile develop on its formless face.
My friends were confused about my depression. My girl friend left me again, unable to deal with my erratic mood swings and rage tantrums. My family stuck out with me the longest, and tried to get me all help possible. I visited doctors and I saw psychologists. They poked me, gave me pills and even shot radiation through my brain to confirm I was still in control of my own sanity. They all looked down at the chart and sighed. And with that my family lost hope, and lost interest. I was now back with my friend. Grunting.
And today, I can hear its grunting right next to my shoulder. Its getting louder. I am getting weaker. I did not foresee the fact that I had made a monster, who was, without doubt, hundred percent anger, grief, desperation and isolation. And it fed on exactly the same. It needed me to be depressed. It needed my to be suicidal. The more I cried, the more it grunted. My friend. It wanted to see me suffer.
And so I lie in my bed today, very sure of the fact that this is not all just a simple nightmare, but exactly what would happen if I befriended depression. My friend, my monster, my demon now haunts me every day and not day.
Every Calvin is not meant to have a Hobbes.
Ed Lithium
