A word of advice first. Talk to somebody. A friend you trust or brother or sister who listen with out casting doubt to your thoughts or the truth for how you feel.

Now. My form of depression is maybe tame to others I wouldn’t know I just know it as a consistent talkative bitch that will not leave me alone about my failures, regrets and the feeling loss and hopeless I have in myself.

Oh no. I try to ignore her but the bitch demands a listening and my attention until…

I talk back. I follow the way. So any time depression is talking to me. There is usually some bullshit talking points. She is always talking about me not doing enough for my mother or being loser for half my life and all that bullshit. The shit about my mother does get to me but the truth is the truth.

My Depression will not shut the fuck up until I address her directly in the speech you my faithful readers are aware of….

I’m working today and the bitch starts talking. I’m not in the mood today so I talk back.

“Fuck you. Where the fuck where you when I had to make decisions about my mother before and after her death. You didn’t have a word of help or support but I got it done without your input.

Fuck you. I did the best I could. I failed. My strength was lost but I did the best I could.

Fuck you. Who the fuck are you to judge me. Who the fuck are you to cast doubt on my intentions. I hoped for the best. I prayed for the best but I was prepared for the worst and that shit didn’t kill me it made me more tough and dependable.

I don’t owe you a damn thing. So go fuck yourself and the shade you throw at me for trying my best and giving it my all until I did not have anything left to give.

Silence follows. I can’t hear depression’s poison tongue whispering to me. She can’t take me telling the blunt truth to her. It’s the only thing that silences her bitching.

Warm Regards

Guardiandogg