Reflecting on Depression

I dispised my twenties,

The decade of depression.

I can count happy memories on a hand and a half,

And all of them were an escape from the life I lived.

Escaping myself was heaven,

Pouring myself onto paper was an affordable five-minute replacement.

I wrote a lot.

And as ugly as the era was,

Pain paints a beautiful picture.

Perhaps that is why PAINT is an art.

The art of survival.

Published by sickybeat

I am a writer with an extremely active imagination. I love learning answers to questions and what makes everything and everyone tick. I am a "Unique case, medically" if nothing else. I am flawed in my extreme aversion to failure (even when "success" isn't good for me,) but have come a long way in ditching the perfectionist mindset. I like people whose default setting toward others is compassion, an open mind, and honesty

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