I count the days like an incarcerated madman...couting days for no apparent reason, for no apparent end...or an end way too far in advance. I guess I have successfully dropped myself into this "pit" of depression... correction... it's more like a bucket, or a cup, but I make it feel like a pit.

This is my prison...lethargy encloses me in bars, my mind creates the ambience...it's suicide...thinking 'til you find that dead end which would make you push yourself over the wall to your physical death. Depression does not take hold of one in an instant, it takes hold of one for a long time...and no matter how one separates it from oneself, it is still of oneself...

I need to escape myself? Is that the issue now? Makes me smile. I guess I need to pray more often, meditate more often.