Depressed Poetry Novels & Stories

I’m nothing, but a numb hollow shell and the sunlight has withdrawn from my world to leave me in eternal cold shadow. I tried to stop the spiraling depression, I fought hard to beat this feeling of being sucked free of all life, but the fates don’t play when you deny them. I’m not even living anymore. Such is my empty continuous state of nothing. I robotically move from my room to kitchen, from kitchen to chores, from chores to my room, day after day. I’ve nothing to say, nothing to add to the conversations around me, and nothing to do or think about beyond focus on this eternal emptiness that I drag around day after day. It’s like a sack of boulders chain to my back, and I can’t free myself

The pov I came back from jogging all sweaty and smelly, I ran to our apartment humming a tune that I created in my mind, weird right? It's funny because I can't sing to save my life but I have always loved music, it brings life to the depressed me, I have been suffering from depression for as long as I can remember, but it got worse after my first heartbreak, coming from a middle-class family, you can't go around wasting money paying a therapist, or visiting Doctors for regular check-ups Doctor don't have to diagnose me, the signs are Crystal clear, the lack of interest in life is a huge sign, the failed suicide attempts tick all the boxes of a depressed soul, the suicidal thoughts even aft

Then she opens the poetry anthology to the poem. A Reflection By MM de Wet (2015) a reflection of the mirror a trick of the eyes and the body what do you really feel? is that tears of joy or of sadness a emotion can easily change a dependent variable of time breaking the mirror will not fit it you will still feel the same haunted by that image of sadness anger pain or of a good memory of happiness and joy

Mу dеѕіrе fоr thаt wоmаn іnvаdеѕ my thoughts nіght and dау. This depression is not lіkе mе аt all. I’m usually аll асtіоn. Frаnklу, іt’ѕ unсоmfоrtаblе. Nоt officially working thе саѕе іѕ hаrd fоr me.

I couldn’t say my father’s pack was better than here, it felt like they were the same, bringing me pain but in different ways. My depression deepened as the days passed. I was consumed by a sense of hopelessness and despair. I fell into a deep depression, and my physical and mental health started to deteriorate. Looking at myself in the mirror, my once bright and sparkling eyes were now dull and sunken, my skin was pale and clammy, my hair was unkempt and my body was frail. I lost interest in eating, and my weight dropped significantly. I was plagued by constant headaches and my wounds were not healing.

So I preferred to go out. "Yes, but why didn't you come back when you felt better?" He wanted to know. "Because I still don't feel better. I still see him in every corner I look. I still feel that my heart is totally full of a poisonous liquid. And I don't think I could sit on that throne, see everyone dancing and drinking, and nothing for me is like a party. They wouldn't understand me. There is no such thing as a depression in hell, although Tennebris really was a very clear image of this problem... They wouldn't understand. No one would understand.

"The winter. The cold. The short days. The long nights. The way everything dies and does not come back for months. The way I feel like I am dying too. Not physically. Emotionally. Spiritually. The way the dark makes me feel like nothing matters." "That is depression." "I know." "Are you depressed?" "I do not know. I am sad. But sad is not the same as depressed. Sad has a reason. Depressed just... is. And I have a reason. The roses are gone. The light is gone. The warmth is gone. That is a reason." "That is a reason to be sad. But is it the reason?" I look at him. "What do you mean." "I mean. Is it really about the roses. Or is the roses just the thing you are pointing at because pointing at

I said and went in. They are nothing but a problem in our life, the sooner they realize it, the better for them. 🌹Jennie 🌹 I left the house without having a place to go, I kept wandering on the street like an orphan, I don't feel like going to work this night, I'm seriously down, even if I go, I won't concentrate, that's why I love doing my things with joy, but this night I felt less of myself. It's been 30 minutes now, I kept roaming the aimless busy street, depression is really bad, I can't believe I lose all the hope I've had that kept me going since all these days, why can't my parent believe in my handwork instead of the fruitless marriage.

“Help me… moon goddess, please.” I laid back on the bed, watching the ceiling as before. There was nothing I didn't think of and the more those thoughts came to my head, the more the feeling of depression washed over me anew. I tried to get some shut eye but that wasn’t even helping matters. “Are you okay?”

[Apple] Despair is deeper than sadness--it is the feeling of no longer having hope. As I sob on the cold, hard ground, my body seizes with loss. What will I do without Sylvester? Is this little spark of life all that remains of my mate and our love? Will I end up like my mother, alone with a child, still in love with my mate but unable to be with him, mourning him for the rest of my life until I die of depression?