Clare Harby

July 7, 1966 - Reading
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Depression is...

Persistent endless emptiness,
Sinking numbness with every breath,
Legs like lead,
Zero motivation,
Procrastination off the scale.
I just need to sleep, just 5 more minutes... Just 5 more minutes... just 5 more minutes before I face my world.
Wash? Why?
Same clothes as yesterday.
Same clothes for the last decade at least. Fuck my appearance!
What do I care?
What does it matter?
What difference does it make?
Creeping worthlessness engulfing my mind, my home, my life, my shrinking self esteem.
Downward spiral into infinite darkness.
Deafening silence of the voice in my head
Screaming, sniping, criticising.
I will never be good.... I will never be enough.
No control.
No way out.
No point.
They said that hope dies last?
They were wrong.
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