(I have suffered from intense bouts of depression since my early teens.  My religion at the time dictated that I turn to God, to fast, and pray, which I did fervently, believing that only through God could I be saved from myself.  Despite my sincerity, my desperation, the depression continued to come and go.  There were several points in my life that I hit such an extreme low that I could not see any reason to continue existing.  This is from a journal entry at one of those points.  I post this because I have made it through these times, and managed to put myself together again, and in the process, have discovered an inner-strength, and an intense spiritual path (read, not religious), that I never would have known that I had otherwise, and sometimes, even now, I need to be reminded that it will all be okay.)

It's light, at first, similar to satin being run gently along my skin.  Part of me acknowledges It's presence, but the mundane day-to-day activities continue. It begins in the periphial part of my awareness, planting It's lethal seed, preparing for It's eventual battle.

Days go by.  The slight awareness fades, comforted by the lack of intensity of this episode.  Everything will be all right, everything is under control this time.

It, however, continues to slide itself through me, tinting the mental spaces that are rarely visited, and the thoughts that are considered only in moments of weakness.  Taking refuge in the deepest parts of me, It waits.  Waits for the moment that It can overtake, overcome, destroy.  With the patience of a Zen master, It waits.

The moment comes when I dare to consider one of those weak thoughts, dare to allow myself to feel the pain of that loss, that action that I would give so much to go back and change.

With this foray into the absolute, most secret, center of myself, I breach the walls that hold my sanity in place, the walls that allow me to go from day to day with hope, and even, occasionally, happiness.  The walls that allow me to believe that I am safe from It.

And it is here that with a roar so loud it is silent, It attacks.  Unprepared for the brutality of the assualt, and beyond the walls that offer comfort, and peace, I have no protection.  It invades every buttress, every tunnel, every room that I once found safe, and I am overcome with a darkness so black, so thick, so complete, that all light I once held, so preciously, was extinguished immediately.

It flows through my essence, my entire being, turning my blood into tar, coating the inside of my veins, clogging the orrifices of my vulnerable heart, seeping through to my skin.  It causes each breath to bring tears, from a pain so deep, so vivid.  Never sharp, always dull, cutting, cutting, cutting, forcing itself into my thoughts of everything, twisting my perception so completely that I can find no good in myself.  Even the consideration of those that I love offers multiple reasons to the case of my destruction.  The beauty I once found in myself only serves as a mirror to that in me that is twisted, and broken, beyond repair.

Something so completely evil as this, the darkness that has invaded me so thouroghly that It has become Me, something such as this needs to be destroyed.

I need to be destroyed.

This is It's will, It's desire. 

I must be destroyed.

The destruction of Self, from within.