Depression creeps in as a slow coil of smoke; I am slowly suffocated in my restless sleep. I wake wondering how bad the day will be, instead of how interesting, beautiful, or sweet. I don’t know it, but the smoke is expanding in my body, slowly poisoning all that is precious and worth living for. I forget about the flowers, the shining eyes of hope, the tears of would-be sadness that become tears of relief once shed; I forget about tender embraces on a cold, dark night, smiling faces and beautiful things older than time. It all gets lost in a close, penetrating fog of emptiness, loss, and unwarranted apathy.

It’s all lost, lost until passion regains consciousness and banishes depression back into the shadows.