The Strings that Cling

It’s coming. I can feel it surging through my bloodstream, like the current of cornflower blue rivers and tributaries, drowning my logic and strength.

You know, there came a point where it wasn’t that I had depression, but that I am depressed. It became a part of me, like the marrow in my bones, the tainted air in my lungsI am nothing more than a broken soul, wandering from person to person and wrapping strings around them. But these people, these poor people who I have chosen to attach myself to, break free anyway.

I don't blame them.