The loneliest road to walk is the road that leads to a place of isolation and an acute loneliness, brought on through the parasite force known as depression. You’re stuck inside a shell that has cracked and is seeping the most destructive emotions, tearing at your body and mind, and no matter how hard you try you just cannot shake it loose.

Monday September 16th, 7 AM:

I just had a conversation with a guy I met in my neighborhood recently. You know, just a small conversation as he passed by my place as I was bringing my dog back from taking a major shit. He asks me how I'm doing. I say, "umm ok" and kind of wiggle my head back and forth in a figure 8 as I rack my brain trying to figure out how I'm really doing. I like to be honest you know? But I couldn't find anything to complain about. Things have finally become on the quiet side for me after years worth of what some might call "Depression." Have I been depressed? I guess so. I know I've been sad. There was a lot of crying going on, on the daily. I mean I just found out that my entire family and every friend I have ever had spent the last 40 years thinking something about me that wasn't true. And there was no way possible for me to be able to go back in time and change that. So yea, I have spent the last few years being "depressed." Again I say, "I guess," because when I think about depression I kind of feel like I don't really know the definition to the word. What is depression? Is it a bad thing? Sure I'll tell you I was depressed, but do I have to also agree with others' immediate thoughts saying that it is a bad thing? The stigma that goes along with admitting you're depressed? That something went wrong in your life and now things are bad and that's all a bad thing and now we shall treat you bad and you will be bad and so on? And did I have a good enough reason to be depressed?

The first time I admitted to my father I was going through a depressive episode he looked at me with concerned in his eyes. The words that followed made me instantly regret ever saying a word.

I’m on a mission...

This is a brief description of my personal experience with depression year-round.

I grew up in a house full of strangers: the only thing we truly had in common was our DNA. One brother was older by twelve years; my other brother was younger by three years.

Did you know that over five percent of the entire global population—approximately 360 million people—is struggling with depression? Did you also know that more than seven percent of the 500 million people with hearing problems across the world also suffer depression? There clearly must be a correlation between these two problems. It is, however, very sad that most people don’t acknowledge depression as a serious medical issue, neither do they really care to find its cure, despite the disease ranking among the leading causes of death in the world today. Research shows that some depression cases only require a patient to wear hearing devices and their problem is solved.

I just completed a 12 hour shift. I'm tired. I'm aggravated... It's cold outside... I'm exhausted, and now the key to the back door of my apartment is stuck, and the door won't un-lock. What do I do? Out of frustration, I started kicking the shit out of the bottom of the door, cursing at the same time, while still wiggling the only key I own out of the key-hole. I don't have a spare, because I lost it at work, and was too lazy to go to a locksmith to have a duplicate made. Once the lock unjammed, and the door opened, I entered my apartment even more aggravated than ever. I removed my department-issued gun, and placed it on the end table inside the living room like I always do. I went inside the bathroom to towel myself off from standing in the rain, when briefly, looked in the mirror and saw that my eyes were blood shot.