I Battle Depression

What a messed up malady. If I had lost an arm or a leg, I might have learned how to live again but this thing, claws at me day and night. I have never really been happy (a few fleeting moments). The monster steals all the joy, the monster is in the way of all the good things. Love is not the least of those things, it is the most important. Depression steals your manhood, your ability to be loved. It takes your confidence, crumples it and tosses it into a corner. No woman in her right mind would have a man such as I( and who could blame them). It scars me to not know love. Lonely is a great weight to bear, especially as hope fades.

I have grown old with lonely and seen its reflection every morning. A constant and belligerent companion.