To eat or to be eaten. To kill or be killed.
Being in the state of absolute sorrow and excruciating heartbreaks, our souls and our minds deteriorate every second we breathe in our solitary state. Our vulnerability begins to quiver into nothing and eventually, we lose our sense of humanity.
Death is only a sideline accomplice of Depression. He will only act if Depression gives the signal, and after that, he would then give the final blow. I have been kidnapped by Depression. She held me captive for years and I have never escaped since then. I could, but the weight of the pain was too much for me to bear. And instead of me finding a way to escape, I just gave up and let her beatings torture me even further down to the very last bones in my body.
My strength began to fail.
My breathings were too heavy.
My lungs were drowning.
My heart was being wrapped in thorns.
My mind was blacking out.
My sight, losing its focus.
My ears, hearing nothing.
I was dying. I felt like dying.
Strangling Pleasure
I called Death and asked him to make love to me. I was touching and searching every curve he has in his body and I permitted him to devour me freely with no complaints. We were already in our bed, and as I was bound in chains, he caressed my head and softly whispered, "It's okay. This'll only hurt a little bit but I promise to be gentle." I loosened up myself and gave in to his fragrance. He smelled like the sweet fragrance of the afterlife. A smell that was purely new to me. Terrifying but intoxicating at the same time. Depression was there, in front of our bed. She sat quietly on a red chair, clothes same as mine. She stared at us and smirked. Her fangs showed as she smiled for joy.
My spine started to shiver. My eyes were dilating as Death kissed my neck. I started to lose breathing. My veins were popping out.
I was strangled.
Drowning in Sand
Feet sinking to the sands
Up until my lungs can't breathe
Can't feel no more joy
On that day I chose to leave
When we hear drowning, we see water in our minds. But drowning to me felt different than just water. When you sink yourself in the middle of the ocean, it's either you swim up or just sink down. Either way, you have the option to "swim". There is a possibility for you to breathe even when you're underwater. Even if its just a small second of air. The water current and the pressure of its waves may overwhelm you but you still have the chance and the choice to counter it—but only if you have enough strength. To me, drowning felt like being engulfed by sand. As pure as the granules can be, they are more than enough to sink you in. You cannot swim. You cannot breathe. There is no chance of an escape route. You just simply...die.
Depression made me feel that.
She was there, giving orders to Death, to let me stand above sinking sand. Wrapped in heavy chains, I was slowly descending to hell. The heat of the desert sun cannot compare to what hell's own sun awaits down below.
I was tortured.
Illustration of Woman Being Tortured
Car Crash
When crossing the road, have you ever felt you wanted to be hit by a car? You just paused in the middle of a crosswalk, with the green lights on and just stand there staring at the approaching car, wishing it would hit you softly enough to make you lie down six feet deep.
Tied up tight with a blindfold in my eyes, Depression positioned me outside the streets of Hopelessness. I can't see but I can hear the noisy engine of a car. It was faint, but I clearly know it was their vehicle. The same vehicle they used to kidnapped me. As I stood there, Depression was beside me, tying up my ropes tight. So tight, my arms and legs began to beautifully show an array of purple colors. I felt the cold wind brushing in my shoulders, Depression had already left me alone. The engine began to roar even louder and louder and louder. When it finally hit the point of maximum volume, I heard silence.
Nothing. but. peaceful... si—lence....
I was killed.
Finally, I have died. I can now live peacefully.
Can I?
Will I?
How can I?
Should I?
Regret gives second death.
.
.
.
.
.
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Newspaper Headlines:
DEPRESSION MURDERED COUNTLESS YOUTHS.
Survivor reveals killer's true toll
(headline reference: Newspaper headline reporting on the victims of Ted Bundy. Theodore Robert Bundy (1946-1989) an American serial killer, kidnapper rapist, burglar, and necrophile.)