This is a poem/story that I constructed, some of it are my own thoughts about my own life, all of it pertains to my life so far, and some of it are bits and pieces from various songs.


They kept him in a mesh box,
Never letting him out to see the world,
but he could still feel the pain of the world,
brought in through the holes in the mesh.

One fateful day at summer camp,
he was exposed to the world,
but the world was too much.

Confused, afraid, alone.
He fought to blend in to anything,
he wanted the material objects that the other children longed for.

The pain of others was his own,
He could not bear it.
The pain of the world was his own,
He tried to fix it.

He gave away all of his chances,
anything he could, in order to please others.
He lived vicariously through the pleasure and sorrow,
of anyone in need.

He was not a pushover,
instead he was an altruist..
But only because he could never be happy himself.

Manic depression reared its ugly head once again.
He ignored it, he pretended that he was fine,
lying to himself.

Tried to treat it with the Devil's lettuce,
It wrapped around him, its waves of sedation a momentary gift from above
It was all for nothing.

Frantic now,
He resorts to anti depressants,
anything to save himself from the impending doom.
A period of time goes by when he is seemingly ok,
but the serotonin cannot save him now.
He has fallen, yet he does not know this yet.

The hallucinogens teach him many things,
their power great, their knowledge even greater.

He accepts it now.
accepts the depression,
he knows that it will never go away.
This kind of depression is incurable.

Daily life became pointless.
He understands many things about the world,
that he wished he never understood.

Sleep was the next to leave him,
he lay in bed, no amount of sedatives would keep his mind,
from lashing out.

He found out sides of himself,
that he came to hate.

Now the drugs are useless for him,
they have lost their strength.
He has no desire to do anything at all.
He has no desire to stay alive, but he makes himself continue to live,
even though he knows he will never escape from his own mind.

As he sat in the closet,
emotionless,
With absolutly no goals,
no desire of any kind,
no drive.

What am I he asked himself?
he concluded,
that every human has some kind of desire to do something ANYTHING.
every human except him that is.

As he walked the hills,
weary of humans,
weary of the pointless grumblings from society around him,
He sees the human race going knowhere.
They have not acomplished anything,
nothing at all.
Evolution? No, they have regressed.

He sat on the hill,
emotionless,
with no desire to do anything at all,
no desire to live,
A broken creature,
a grain of sand in the wind,
he sang his song to the grass,
he sang his song to the earth.
Sang his song to those who will never answer:

Huddled in the corner
Disillusioned
My lifeless stare is fixed
On your silhouettes
You’re disregarding me
Passing me by
Like I’m not even here
Maybe I’m not
Maybe I’m somewhere else

I used to be one of you
With the same spark in my eyes
And now I don’t belong to this place
It’s a matter of merciless time
I wholly vanish

The candle guttered out
The beauty elapsed
Could’ve been so wonderful

Remember, A man with no goals, a man with no desire, a man who has no point in living, is not a man at all.

Max... Do you care to share more about what you are expressing here with loving friends on the Nexus?

Thank you for sharing yourself with us.

I know where you are.



Yeah. They say when you accept it, don't fight against it, it will be better. But then this emptiness sets in and eats everything away. At least the fight was something to hang onto. The hope that one day it will happen, one day, it will all come true.

Can you laugh at yourself? On your pity? I still can, sometimes. That's a good one. When I can see my self, this whole "depression" story from that inner perspective. There is still somebody who is witnessing all of this. And the misery doesn't belong to that one who is watching. That one is pristine, the burden is on the shell. That may give some hope.

But to turn it all around: it may be just neurophysiology. Do you exercise? Do you eat healthy? Do you... fuck.

all I can do is just keep breathing, dont worry its just a poem I will be fine.

Action and desire are not the only measure of a man. I suffered from deep depression for a long time; up and down. I cannot offer any solutions, only support, empathy, and love. I hope you find the peace and love you deserve - because we all deserve peace and love, you included.