抑鬱症 The Ghilen

There is a monster brooding in the darkness. She commenced as nothing more than a fleeting thought, an unrealistic, melodramatic, notion founded-upon the over sensitivity of the teenage psyche. I ignored her, I scorned her, I opposed the possibility of her existence, yet she remained hidden in the shade of the undeveloped psyche, retreating into the caverns of my ever expanding reality. Pushed further-and-further into the darkness by love, brotherhood, connection, but I heard her the other night, as I attempted to sleep. I heard her scraping her long, mucronate, nails on the underpinnings of my mattress last night. Her voice drifted through the corridors of my mind, giggling, screaming, crying out for compassion. I hear her moans-and-groans every night, in some regards, I have become accustomed to her presence, even finding comfort in the company. Her once shrill, corrosive, voice becomes a source of relaxation a calming song, yet I can never close my eyes. As I tremble in my bed, eyelids clutching to my cheeks, teeth grinding against my mouth, she slinks out from underneath the bed. Her icy fingers massage my temples, filling my mind to the veritable brim. Memories cascading from corridor to corridor, faces, sensations, desires, and experiences. I hear footsteps echoing behind me in the school-halls, a fleeting giggle. Is it the gaggle of giggling girls staring at me, or something else? I feel her breath on my neck, as the smile fades from my lips. Her hands cup my hears, as the laughter dissipates. She calls me back to bed, back to another night clinging onto consciousness, trapped by that beautiful monster.