What it feels like

Imagine this; you have everything you ever craved about, the view of success to the definition of what it means to be so from your perspective, perhaps even from the ones around you. Technically that would mean that you have nothing to be melancholic about, as your life is pivoting the way that you had always desired it to, there’s no void for your conscience to be drowned in dysphoria, still you see no reason to feel blissful, your mood is ironically numbed in contrast to your situation; even though it was the only one you always wanted. You’re confused with what’s going on inside your head, you don’t understand anything that’s seeping into your cortex, and you’re even perplexed about your very existence. 

Your significance is gravitating into an emptiness you don’t know the reason for, you can’t decide if you matter, or if you ever did. What I want you to understand is that lack of success or its attributes are not necessarily the reason behind depression, neither it is that only emotional people are susceptible; in short it can wrangle anyone. Phenomenon of cause and effect holds good even for this, depression for a person may be mystery to him/her, however all cases are induced in some way or another; it’s triggered by factors: primarily people or even circumstances, the patient however may not know what, but ‘not knowing’ does not mean ‘not existing’. You can’t decipher what lurks beneath that complacent face, it’s impossible until you experience it yourself that you realize how hellacious it gets, being there in darkness when you’re surrounded by the warmth of light. 

Figuring out what caused it should be the least of our concern at least at the moment, instead preventing exclusive intervention into oneself must be given priority, because the more you ‘think’ the worse it gets; obviously one can’t stop the signals flooding through neurons, however diverting the focus from inwards to anything soothing or even distracting is attainable. Only can the person detach himself from the storm hollowing his emotional cavity and debilitation. Let me clear the frost for lucidity, this is a personal account:

”The void of oneself and the crack of silence inside of me; it was really quiet and dark. “Just a bit more” was my excuse to stay in bed,

at least in there I felt a fraction of certainty about my emotions. But to get up was a necessity so I had to do it anyway, so gathering a big bulk of air into my lungs I would slide it down to let my skin get a peek of light. I would slowly get down and then drag myself out. On the advice of my teacher I would then go for a walk outside, though I felt there was no practical increment in just about the way I perceived anything, still distracting my conscience was a need, a need to ‘go through’. The day was bright, the warmth of sun oozing into my skin with its tenderness alongside the ambience of frost. Yes, the natural retort would be rejoicing, perhaps even gratefulness, however all I could feel was literally just emptiness.”