It’s like a weight pressing down on me, whispering hateful words and cruel judgements, accusing and condemning.
You’re not good enough. You’re a disappointment. You’re always a disappointment. You’re fat and you’re ugly and who could blame people for not loving you?
It’s voices in my head repeating vicious mantras, voices of the enemy, except if I listen closely I realise it’s my voice and I am the enemy, my mind, my self, my very essence.
How do you kill the thing that’s killing you if the thing that’s killing you is your own mind?
I hate it and I despise it and I defy it.
Depression you do not own me. You do not control me. You do not define me.
I am me and I am not you. Leave me alone. I will win.
I will win and you will die because I am more than you will ever be.