It is depression, utter anguishing depression. My existence is a spool with one length of thread left and I am bare. I have tried, time and time again, to wind the thread back on, to make the spool complete again but I consistently fail.
It's rather dark in here, inside my head. Sure, there are ideas that paint the cerebral walls with hope but it quickly fades, dripping from outcropping emotionless logic and nodules of fact-based realities to puddle in a disheveled pool of muddy hues.
Somewhere deep inside the corner of my mind is a form so dark and sinister it could only be a spawn of the devil. I can see him when I close my eyes at night, a dark mass with an ebony soul. He circles, impatiently. He waits, testing his bonds, fighting the chain around his neck. A deep, gutteral moan escapes his lips, tempting me, confusing me. I am haunted by urges that are not respectible. I am tortured by a desire to indulge in obsessive behaviours. Light another cigarette, take another bite, think these thoughts and you will...
Enough! No no. Am I evil if there is evil within me? I am just a child who is suffering from an illness. Am I responsible for what I think, what I feel? The creature stirs. He laughs and tells me that I can start being good tomorrow. That I can quit tomorrow. That tomorrow will be a better day. But until then, drink another drink, smoke another one, eat another one, dive deep into the sickness of your mind one last time. The last hoorah!
Damn the monster. What a liar he is. Tomorrow is never here. It's aways today and I have fallen into sin again as I always will. But my soul has been torn apart one too many times and it leaves me cold as a razor blade.