via: Daily Prompt
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When I was eleven years old, the first signs of depression began to dig into my soul.
They buried themselves deep, and only made themselves known when they knew it would affect me most.
There was no specific trauma, no awful event that made these shards of listlessness appear, but they did anyway.
Every day they dug deeper into my flesh, and into my mind. They melted and melded and became one with my skin until I could no longer tell which parts of my body were flesh and which were sharp shards of listlessness.
Over time the shards become larger, imposing.
They are their own people now, following me like a dark cloud as I go about my days. They take my agency, my autonomy, and begin to control it themselves.
People, politics, events, they all blur past like the countryside when you’re speeding down a highway. The paint of the day has been mixed so thoroughly by the shards that it is unrecognisable.
I sit quietly in the passenger seat of my head, letting the shards take the wheel and watching the trees and bushes fly by with little acknowledgement.
My hands don’t move, but the dark shape in the driver’s seat moves for me.
I can’t stop the car.