Bartender, give me another glass of depression. Make it warm and thick. I want to enjoy every sip and every drop of it. They say misery loves company, but I prefer my depression, alone, in the ever so inviting, welcoming dark.
Depression, that bitter sweet taste that rivals even love itself. That sweet, tangy drink that warmthens and cremates my soul. Joy is a cold, thin drink, who’s taste fades as soon as it’s no longer on your tongue.
I want to be deaddrunk on depression, as it desecrates me in the sweetest way…
Let me be emersed in it, I surrender my every fibre and being, to that delectable drink. Let me drown in it, down to my very core. Let me drink glass, after glass, after glass until I am depression itself. It is that ever so warm blanket, in a crowd full of cold hearted bastards. That friend when no other is left. it is that noise that breaks the silence.
And with every sip of it I take, a sip of me it also, takes. Depression is my love. So Bartender bring me more and more. A toast, a toast to my troubles, to my fears and to this drink, crafted so well by those closest to you.
Depression, embrace me, for no one else will.