A letter to depression

Ah depression, it's been awhile. You're still up to your tricks I see. Trying to get me to despise life, to feel purposeless, to give up on myself. You still inject your fog-filled lies and try to give me a bleak outlook of the future. But I'm on to you. I'm becoming more and more immune to your sudden dramatic appearances. You don't make me catastrophize like I used to. My mind is more stable than that. When you whisper in my ear that I'm just a balding, chronically-ill screw-up with broken pipe-dreams and nothing to look forward to, I show you the progress I've made. I shove it in your face and yell "See this!? Does this look like the trajectory of a screw-up?". I'm becoming who I want to be. I'm controlling what I can. I'm keeping my mind, spirit, and body disciplined. I'm helping myself and helping others. So depression, you can see yourself out.

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