I’m drowning in a sea of sorrow.

I can’t seem to breath.

I can’t hold on to air.

I can’t grab onto the stairs.

I’m dying and I don’t understand.

My anxiety has gone beyond anything I can control.

I want to break. I want to drown.

My lungs seize on breaths not taken.


Oh, no, I can see the monster I had hidden away. I’ve named him. He hides in the dark corners of my mind.

Depy is his name.

He feeds off happiness. He feeds off fear. He feeds off my rising anxiety.

Depy is an asshole.

Depy doesn’t care.

Several peers have reminded me that consistency is an opportunity for me; both personally and professionally. I laugh…Consistency is what’s missing in my life? Consistency is what’s missing in my personal development?

I can’t just “ignore” the bad days. It’s not like I haven’t tried. I’m as consistent as I can possibly be. You think it’s just a “rough patch”. You think it’s just a “bad day”. Well let me tell you it’s not.

It’s more than just having a bad day. I don’t have a simple “bad day” – I have a bad week, a bad month, a bad year. Sometimes Depy is content with sleeping in the darkness, but other times he wants to come out and play. There is no way to fight him. I’ve grown tired. I’m in constant pain. Constantly trying to recognize the warning signs.

Want to see consistency? Want to see normal? Look at the video in my mind. During a “good day” I check on Depys door. I try the handle. It’s locked. I take the key out and unlock it. I peek inside. He is sleeping peacefully. Better not disturb him. Let Depy sleep. Let him slumber. If he wakes, there will be hell to pay. There is always a hell to pay.

I knew these good days were starting to come to an end. I consistently check his room. Everyday. Today I can hear him starting to stir. I can hear him wanting to wake up. I can hear him become restless. I can hear him. I run away from the door. I curl up into a ball and I sob. I cry because I don’t want to return. I cry because the battle only gets harder. Every time he wakes up it’s harder to put him back to sleep. It’s harder to make him relax. I’m so tired of fighting him.

When does it get easier? When am I allowed to stop fighting? When can I put him to a final rest?

It feels like never. It feels like I’ll always fight. It feels like it will go on until I die. It feels like…


I need to run
I need to cry
I need to hide
I need to tell someone
I need to escape
I need to stop
I need to fight
I NEED to fight

I NEED TO fight


At this moment,
I WILL fight you. I will NOT cower.
I WILL fight you with my dying breath. I will NOT let you decide what’s right and wrong for me.
I WILL be strong. I will NOT take medication to help.
I WILL overcome depression. I will NOT succumb to you.
I WILL prevail.

I may be drowning, but I will not give in.

I may be depressed, but I will not quit.

I may be down, but I will come back up.


PLUR Regards,


Tyler Hurt



Edited by: Heather LaBarge, Exalted Peacock


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