Survival of a Depressed Soul

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I am not living, I am simply surviving, and my survival is not by my own. Couple of pills which are mean to boost my energy and to end anxiety are helping me to survive. The depression which embrace is acting as a moderate toxin, I am dying every moment. That minute when depression grasp me, I need my close one to be with me, I need my family to adore me, however toward the end its bathroom walls and some sharp cutting edges who kiss me rather than my family. After the affection of my new companions i:e; walls and sharp blades, a smile all over with a drop of tear in eyes ensure me that ‘I am not alone.’ My lonliness is always with me and one day my loneliness and uneasiness will end along with my last breath.

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