There is a wispy ghost named depression. He comes and goes from month to month in search of my happiness. He is childish and wise at the same time. He has no friends except me and lacks the social etiquette to make any of his own. If it weren't for my understanding, he would be all alone. He knows so much and has such potential, but alas, throws it all away for the chance to make an impression. He hides in mirrors and indulgences. He likes chocolate and sweet coffee. He speaks little but conveys all with his large eyes that only appear when the moon is full and the stars cry with the gravity of his glances. He carries nothing with him except his collection of masks which he wears when meeting new people. It is quite rediculous, but he insists. We used to despise one another but have grown close in recent years. It is difficult to see any similarity between the two of us, but I can always see a resemblance.
What Depression doesn't know is that he hurts me. I think he's one of those ghosts that aren't aware of the damage they do. He does a lot. He numbs me and steals my empathy until I finally become indolent. I stare at him when he's not looking and when he's eating. He thinks I don't notice, but I do; I see his flaws and the flaws that he imposes on me. Our relationship has become so stagnant and monotonous. I hope we can forgive each other for our vices.
