the marriage of anxiety & depression

Together, anxiety and depression are toxic. They feel like a horribly mismatched married couple who jumped into marriage without much thought. Anxiety really wanted a ring and the wedding rather than the marriage. Depression didn't want to be tied down for the rest of its life but society made it seem like it should happen and the sex is good. 

For as long as I can remember {childhood & on} I have been depressed. I have dreamed of suicide. I told my dad and he laughed. I told my mum who suggested therapy and then... nothing. Nobody helped me so I waited... and then, finally, I hit the rockiest of rock bottoms when anxiety came to visit {the little hoe bag} and never left. 

And now, my anxiety and depression are married and, here's the thing, it really bloody sucks.

Anxiety makes me feel like the walls are closing in and makes me want to get out.

Depression comes and slams me into the bed and drowns me in covers.

Anxiety makes me feel forever unloved.

Depression makes it much worse.

Anxiety makes me feel like I can't breathe.

Depression makes me cry so much that I gasp for breathe.

Anxiety makes me feel like I am going to die every second of every day.

Depression keeps the melancholia around.

Anxiety sees death/heartache/heartbreak around every corner.

Depression never wants to see anything again.

Anxiety is insulted and offended always.

Depression tells you to die whenever you are.


It's so many different things wrapped up together in a hideously constrictive and messy bow.
Man, just break up already.

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