depression.

Standard

desperately trying to pull my self out of bed.
out of this haze.
i should get up.
i should be productive.
i should.
i should.

but these blankets are so damn warm,
and this bed is holding me hostage.
refusing to let me escape into a happier world.
a happier state of mind.

instead i’ll go over my failures in life one by one.
i’ll start with that time i was ten and stole a ring from the hospital gift shop.
and inevitably end with how much i am failing as a parent.

it’s like a fog that consumes my brain.
my soul.
all accomplishments vanish.
not a single good deed remains.
instead; the screw-ups,
the hatred,
the negativity.
every evil i have ever committed.

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