"I'm shying from the light, I always loved the night, And now you offer me Eternal Darkness"

Oh depression, you cruel mistress you. No matter what I do, you always follow me around like a persistent, vile shadow.

(Copyrights belong to me, thank you very much)

Now I am taking four pills for this. And I am slowly accepting the fact that I am prone to depression and it will most likely be part of me for the rest of my life. No matter how long or short that time will be. I guess that is to be expected when you are a creative and over all sensitive. At least all the part-time writers, poets, artists and musicians I know have some kind of mental problems. Most of them, but not all, of course. This feverish fire that eats up inside out can be enormous source of creativity but it comes with a high cost; suffering, incapability to function properly in society nor relationships and if not treated well and fast enough it might even end up in the eternal slumber of the cold ground. Which I have very mixed feelings about. And also it has made my imagination soar, unfortunately without any way to express myself now or in the near-future. I need some painting-equipment's and time and I have a previous promise to keep, so... that's it then. For now.