The Disease of My Soul

The sadness just lives too deeply, knowing me all too well. The sadness is overwhelming, deafening, draining. All that's left is a lack of motivation, only glimpses and sparks of what once was inspiration now remnants of loss. Thoughts of death. The end. These thoughts worry me but more than that make me pity myself. I feel worthless and hopeless and don't even care whether or not that changes as it feels it will last forever. I will live with "it". With no escape. Just moments of stillness. Prolonged agony, waiting, giving up any hope there is to pull through once and for all. Decompacitated. All that motivates everyday is the idea to withdrawal and sleep. And even sleep isn't enough, waking to dread each day, anxious and unrested. So many thoughts of what should and could be done but my body feels heavy under the weight unable to move. Detached. Lost. 

Yet I still survive this disease... I am still here. Haven't escaped yet but maybe there really is none anyway.