Depressed Poetry Novels & Stories

I wished the thick darkness would fade, but the closer we came to the light, the more I saw, the more I wished I didn’t see. The walk was heart-wrenching. With tears and sobs, I tried to hold back; I continued forward. I did my best to pretend I didn’t hear, didn’t see, didn’t feel the rush to run away and forget this place ever existed. The weight whispers and baby cries had on my soul; eventually, the body was hefty. It felt like a monster; the worst kind of depression devoured me from the inside. The weight now affected every part of me, and I could no longer feel the tears, how my lip trembled, or how my feet scraped against the cold rocks as I did my best to drag them after me. I just w

| {In the fell clutch of circumstance} {I have not winced nor cried aloud} | What keeps repeating in my head are the words of the poem "Invictus" by William Ernest Henley; something the Sisters taught me at Nuestra Señora de la Buen Viaje and I memorized as a child. I used to recite the same words to myself during severe attacks of depression. I guess I forgot that I knew them, just like many other parts of my childhood. “I said…” I tell Septimus, a little louder this time, “… you’re wrong.”

She could see their carefree spirits, their laughter like a bright beacon of normalcy, but she felt like a ghost haunting the edges of their lives. The weeks dragged on, and her depression deepened, weaving itself into her everyday existence. She would lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling, the darkness amplifying her fears and insecurities. Thoughts raced through her mind—questions without answers, worries that swirled like a storm. “What if this never gets better? What if I’m always this way?”

I was in its mind, lost in its darkness. I don't know how to get out and I can't even feel or hear Heli in me. I'm alone in the darkness, depression slowly started to crawl over me. I'm all alone in this darkness. There's no one here with me, no one to save me.

Call me a lovesick fool – I don't care and I won't even argue with you. As more days passed, I became weaker and weaker. My once curvy figure had become emaciated and frail. My hair, once thick and glossy, had lost its shine and had become limp and lifeless. I hardly moved from my bed, and when I did, it was with great effort. My depression was palpable, an almost palpable cloud that hung over me and filled the room.

I changed my clothes into something comfortable and climbed onto my bed. I sighed deeply while staring at the ceiling, Why am I sad? Why is his absence affecting me? Oh god!

.....the light is getting dimmer and dimmer but I don't mind because I'm finally embracing the darkness..... I have to say, poetry is my coping mechanism. Reading and writing it is not only a form of self expression for me, but it helps me deal with my anxiety and depression. And right now I can't stop writing and it's because I'm one minute away from having an anxiety attack. I have been the new girl at different schools for quite a number of times but I still can't get over first day nerves. You would think that due to all this constant moving and school changes, I would have mastered the art of being the new girl.

I walked around the frozen Mateo and left without looking back. Mateo stood there as the biting wind tore through his already disheveled hair. He had never felt such bone-chilling cold before, not even during the heavy snow three years ago. … Third-Person Point-of-View Mateo's spirit finally broke, with the company on the brink of collapse due to a massive capital shortfall. He spiraled into a deep depression, losing all his former drive. He became a recluse, sealing himself inside his room and attempting to numb the agonizing pain with bottle after bottle of liquor.

Three weeks later. I am roaming around the streets of this beautiful city on this chilly evening. Just like the darkness is overcrowding the city, so is it doing to my mind. Despondency is whacking me hard. Life is really spanking me mercilessly. For three good fucking weeks, I struggled to find work. I leave my condominium in the morning every single day with the forlorn hope of coming back with good news, just like I did today, but every single day I come back with a distraught heart. I didn't get any today either, so it's not an exception. I don't even feel like returning to that condo since I feel so depressed right now. Since giving up on the job search for today at six in the evening,

I quiver and stared at the blood flowing down on my wrist. A thick harsh swallow, my throat felt so dry, so thick. A simple swallow turning into a war. Muscles tensing up in my shoulders, my teeth gritting and grinding as I tried to steady and control my tattered breath and shaking hands. Sweat droplets formed on my palms and numbness called attention to my hands. That night, I slept with a stinging pain on my wrist. And all I could think was, how could I end this life? "Depression is a mood or emotional state that is marked by feelings of low self-worth or guilt and a reduced ability to enjoy life."