Demons

I don't remember the last time I wrote, maybe it's because I was happy. And happiness never seems to make it here. The only thing I could ever write about was my depression. But here I am again, sitting by a window ledge, watching as life pass me by. While I am stuck here within the crevices of my mind, within this cage I've built around me. It seems a year ago I have been here, perhaps even two. Back to the start, just new memories of the same old shit. Seems to be that whenever happiness comes my way, I have to fight and struggle so fervently for it to stay and not let go of me. But I know eventually it will, and eventually if I don't try hard enough I will end up back here. But this place is so familiar it has no surprises left any longer. My all time lows' arrive way too soon and each time I relapse it's like starting all over again. But maybe I never do try hard enough because happiness was never something I could deal with. We all are immune to certain feelings or even places that sometimes even a change for the better doesn't appeal to us. I may have known happiness, but no where as near to what sadness knows about me. Sometimes I feel like I relapse into this dark place because subconsciously I want to be back here. I want to be back to the familiarity of it and I enjoy it so. Maybe then that is why happiness could never permeate through every single cell in my body, while sadness was all over, all inside, all around me. I'm not sure where to start or should I say how to go back. I'm not sure how much longer I can go on falling and having to pick myself up thereafter. Perhaps I don't ever get up, I just wait for excuses for me to fall back down into this pit infested with blood thirsty creatures. They just want my blood and my soul and after all the body is lifeless without them. And that's exactly what I feel. I never thought I would get the chance to write something like this again, because I believed I was happy. And I really was. I was the happiest in the longest time, and I believed having something to look forward to keeps me going. But I am always falling and honestly I am so tired to pick myself up again, knowing I will be back here soon. I don't know how to explain myself. I don't want to stay here and this room sickens me. I feel imprisoned, even in my head. And I am exhausted, for falling back down, for thinking someone can fix me when I can't be put back together, for thinking someone could help me when I can hardly help myself. I gave in to my demons a long time ago and now I don't think they will ever let me go.