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My darkest hour

what depression felt like to me

I sit in the darkness, devastated and alone. Wondering where the sun went, praying for its return. Each minute in the darkness feels like an eternity. Each sound, my enemy. Each breath, a reminder. A reminder of the pain infliction my soul.

When will the peace come? I love for it, thirst for it. Each new second the darkness grows and with it, my fear of no morning. My darkest hour, heavier than the weight of the world. My hardest struggle, darker than the deepest ocean. My soul, as desperate as sin itself.

The voices around me do not notice the darkness. They say it is light. They say it is warm. Who is right? Who is wrong?

Hope is leaving my heart. I begin to doubt everything. Happiness has long ago left me and all that remains is sorrow.

Will I ever see the sunrise? For it has been far too long. Will I find my way out of this horrible blackness or am I lost forever?

In the middle of it all I hear the voices of the afflicted. They torment me, discourage me. A few call my name, telling me to join them for there is no hope.
Will I join them? Follow them into a different darkness? One that feels tempting and warm but in my heart I know it is an eternal death.

I cannot stand this darkness any longer! Screaming in agony, I beg for death. The pain is too great, the heartache to heavy, the despair to deep. I beg the darkness to end it.

Finally, before the darkness claims me as his own, I lift my head and see a light, small, faint, but certainly there. The sun has come at last. The light flows towards me, causing the darkness to flee. Light engulfs me, warming the very depths of my soul once more. Peace washes over me, morning has come!

But with it comes a haunting thought... How long till the darkness returns?

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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