As much as I have fought and struggled with this thing we
call depression, I am never prepared when I lose someone to it. There hasn’t been an official declaration to
this, but those of us that knew this individual are fairly certain they
succumbed to the demons.
I lost a dear and wonderful person last month. I could sit here and sing praises to the
talent and light that has been lost to the world, but I’m not nearly as
eloquent as some. I’ve also been
entirely too focused on my own loss
-- there have been too many who have
left this world because they could no longer deal with the darkness in their
own heads, and every flame that goes out leaves me in my own growing darkness. It becomes more and more difficult to keep
moving forward.
And for every person that can no longer deal with the pain,
I feel I have to continue. I have to
remember them and make sure they aren’t forgotten, so they can continue to live
in my heart.
I hate this disease.
I hate what it does to the people I love. I will never stop fighting. I will never forget the lives lost.
