There once was a man by the name of A. Fellow that suffered from major depression.
Since childhood he lived with this burden inside him, yet never stated this confession.
Occasion’lly when all alone with his thoughts, the depression makes life feel so bleak,
reminding him of his embarrassing thoughts and then sharing unwanted critique.
For instance, A. Fellow could have a fine day when surrounded by friends and good cheer.
Yet somehow Depression will sneak in his head and commit him to sadness and drear.
“Remember that time when you thought you could write,” it’ll say with a lifted eyebrow.
“You made such a fool by exposing your soul. I bet people still laugh at you now.”
And once this dark nuisance has planted the seed of deep gloominess inside his head
A. Fellow withdraws as he ponders this thought, and retreats to confinement in bed.
He can’t close his ears to block out this dark voice as it speaks with mem’ries of his past,
and as a result of him hiding from life, he begins to feel like an outcast.
“Oh please,” the sad, frustrated man said out loud on a night when he couldn’t get sleep
while visions of sadness rushed all though his head, and he fought back a strong urge to weep.
“Name anything that you want to go away, and then promise to leave me alone.”
And just like that something inside of the bedroom appeared out of places unknown.
It stood over seven feet tall with a hunch that protruded from its upper back
and had a complexion much paler than white and a tattered gown draped all in black.
A menacing smile stretched across its thin mouth (pale flesh bunching beneath its dark eyes)
that bared the dark stains and thin cracks of its teeth, its large frame outlined by the moonrise.
“Who are you,” A. Fellow had stammered to it as if captured by its grim expression.
The creature then chuckled a menacing laugh and said, “Dear friend, I am your depression.”
It tilted its head as if curiously and said, “I heard your request and thought
that I should appear and grant you your one wish of these feelings that you claim I brought.
I’m going nowhere, and the both of us know this, but I think I can make a deal.
Since it is the past that is causing this burden, your mem’ries are what I will steal.
Without all these pesky thoughts bouncing around causing depressing interpretation,
your mind will be free of this trigger and then you’ll be able to feel true elation.”
A. Fellow considered Depression’s idea and certainly he must admit
that it was indeed all the memories making him wish that this life he could quit.
So with a reluctant agreement A. Fellow confirmed that the deal would be made.
The mental images he kept in his head was how this quick transaction was paid.
A sinister laugh bellowed out of its mouth and Depression returned to the night.
Away it did go without flourish or pomp, just a disappearance from his sight.
He didn’t feel different as he sat alone in his bedroom and wondered aloud,
“Did something just happen? I cannot remember.” His memories covered by cloud.
It’s sad that this person did not understand that Depression lacks reason to show.
Bad memories are not what causes the sadness, although they allow it to grow.
A. Fellow should never have trusted Depression as this illness will always lie.
And that’s why he lived for the rest of his days feeling sad but yet not knowing why.
by Cary Vaughn (2015)