After every sunny day, comes a stormy night
Of Monsters and MenTags: hope depression
The depressed person was in terrible and
unceasing emotional pain, and the impossibility of sharing or articulating this pain was itself a component of the pain and a contributing factor in its essential horror. Despairing, then, of describing the emotional pain itself, the depressed person hoped at least to be able to express something of its context, its shape and texture, as it were-by recounting circumstances related to its etiology.
Tags: depression
Anna liked magazines. They were glossy machines. The only technology that she could fold. She read them on a regular basis because they were absorbing. Each one came out on a specific day of the week and was good for an hour of absorption.
Sarah SchulmanTags: depression magazines
The mornings were the worst. Roger told me this was Classic Depressive. He said that mornings were generally the most trying part of the day for a Classic. As Roger spoke, I would think of all the people everywhere, all over the world, who managed to get out of bed every morning. One morning after another morning. All that getting out of bed. All those people. And then I imagined those same people all leaving the house—actually going somewhere—maybe even without thinking about it.The progress of days. All the lives in all those days. I remember wondering how it was done. As if I wasn’t implicated…Roger told me that this train of thought, too, was Classic. I wondered if he meant to be comforting.
Suzanne ScanlonTags: depression
I was woken by a shell-burst in the trench of sleep. Heart skipping, with eyes fighting light, my thoughts sprang up like a field of starlings startled by a farmer's gunshot, a thousand separate, autonomous specks that swirled into a single united black shape.
Will WilesTags: sadness depression rude-awakening morning-thoughts
Life is merely terrible; I feel it as few others do. Often — and in my inmost self perhaps all the time — I doubt whether I am a human being.
Franz KafkaTags: existentialism depression
There is point in your life when you come face to face with the reality that you cannot take another step on your own. For me, I had never experienced that point, but depression brought me there. I have slowly, painfully and continually been confronted by my brokenness. Coming to terms with the fact that I am broken has been at the center of my accepting my being loved.
For me, now, there exists a sense of desperate need for what God brings to my spiritual and mental self. Without His voice I cannot cope with the darkness, but with His whisper of "you are My beloved", I can take a step each day away from the chasm. I am broken but not beyond mending, not beyond love.
It has been this desperation that has opened a crevice in which I am seeing Him for the first time. He is why my soul can find some peace even when my mind is dark and numb. It is this love that continually has brought me back from the edge of the impostor to the honesty of my broken, inner self
Tags: soul hope depression healing
I tear at the air with glass nails
that have learned to scale
mountains of mirrors.
Tags: sadness depression
Rain is a lullaby heard through a thick, isolating blanket of clouds. It is the tinkling harp of water droplets; a moist breath whistling through willow reeds; a pattering beat background to the mourner's melody. Rain is a soft song of compassion for the brokenhearted.
Richelle E. GoodrichTags: melancholy rain sadness mourning grief depression heartbreak heartache richelle raindrops richelle-goodrich
Don't let a three-o'clock-at-night feeling fog your soul.
L.M. MontgomeryTags: night depression
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