A Confession of Depression

A picture of a unicorn, a picture of a dream,
an animal from mythology – one I’d like as
my patronus; I wish he were with me today
to keep my brain waves safe, one to keep the
trolls away who invade my brain and make
it impossible to get anything done; even my
story fades until there is none, I am more
alone in my head than before, it is an awful
existential experience, reminds me of the
situations of pestilence described in Sartre’s
stage plays, characters sinking into garbage
cans; I am waiting for Godot to come and
safe the day – Godot never came; only Wayne
Dyer’s book with me with its assurances of
our godly nature – mine has turned Vogon;
I have none of that godly feeling one with
positive all-encompassing loving spirit; in a
bid to see all problems as non-existent I tried
to smile and socialize – it did not work, I’m
sad to say; my Vogon poetry led to readers
feeling bereaved of good philosophy; I
apologise especially to my main detractor
who saw through the thin veneer of my sham
humanity, right to the crocodile underneath…