Depression
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
British (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
the day was long, not the fulfilling, happy summer day type. The rain hit the coffee shop window, leaving a trail similar to the tears that I once cried. The wind was strong, and if it wasn't for the constant force that pulls me towards the Earth Centre, I'd have involuntary flown across the world. God, you should fly to the other side of the planet, he said as he sat next to me. I ignored and made my way home. He accompanied me, leaving as soon as I stepped on the doormat. Now I could finally put on the music that would help me forget about the grey sky I've been staring at all day. This was much of a routine. After work, I'd get my fourth or fifth coffee of the day on the cafe. Down the road, he would come silently and put some unpleasant words together. Sometimes he'd walk me home some other times. He just waved me goodbye from our table as he'd watch me leave. He didn't bother me, nor was he interesting. So I limited myself to learn his name and nothing more. I am depression. He introduced himself. That was the only time I've ever seen him smile. There's certain day I woke up earlier and feeling energetic. I am not a morning person, so this was kind of an occasional accomplishment. I got up, worked out, took a shower, have breakfast and even had time to explore a couple of chapters from a book. I've been reading the almost non existent rays of sunshine. We're awaiting me. It was a surprise when I heard depressions voice greeting me as I stepped out my front door. Hey, D, what are you doing here? I asked. He didn't hesitate to ask me for a cup of coffee. That was unusual. I have never seen him at the coffee shop in the morning. Caffeine wasn't in my plans this morning, but who could I kid if I could say I could survive without it. You know, your job is pretty ****** now. You sure you want to go? Andy was right. My job was a parallel of excrement. But why would he question that? Why was I questioning that? My phone rang. It was an important call from work, leaving me no choice but to take off in a rush. The day continued as expected work coffee shop home, a sporadic cup of wine, dinner, some journaling and bed. The next morning wasn't as enjoyable. My endorphins level were significantly low. That question was now stuck in my brain. I still had one hour until the alarm went off, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to go to work. So I went back to sleep. It was a failed attempt. My mind was having a sudden existential crisis. The job is pointless. This routine is unproductive. How happy am I? Will I ever do what I really want to do? Will I ever settle down? It was going Miles. I managed to roll out of bed before I could hit the snooze button, took the habitual shower and peaked the sky to decide what would be my clothing. For the day. Thick and dark clouds were covering the city. It felt like Sunday, and similarly to every seventh day of the week. My choice was to stay in. I've put on some clean pyjamas and prepared myself to dive into a movie marathon. May I come in? The suddenly knocked on the door early in the afternoon, uninvited, I nodded, reticent, letting him in his steps were silent, and he always carried this vacant look in his face. Regardless, something about him led me to a comfort zone. So I allowed him into my life, the negativity surrounding the atmosphere inside my house. He looks around in detail and hated every furniture and art that I owned. I agreed, even though it never occurred to me how bad looking my apartment was. Before DNI emerged into a mildly interesting conversation, I opened myself up to the stranger next to me. I've wondered why you were constantly alone thinking You are very comfortable with yourself, but the truth is you're not very captivating, he stated five minutes in, and boredom is all I envision. It had been the first time I reacted to his mean words. My mind froze. Is this the impression people have of me? Thoughts of low self esteem invaded my head. I smoked and turn my attention back to the movie, or so I intended. Truth is, no one has ever called me boring, but I don't usually engage with outsiders, and they lean to veracity when talking to random people. It's not his interest to hurt me. He is just being honest before I realised we were three movies in this third movie was about the different perspectives on achievement. It doesn't matter how much you work for it. You won't succeed. Some character cited. This is your reality. He redirected it to me. I gave it some thought, but he was right. I've worked hard all my life and I've accomplished nothing. I killed myself up as if I was a foetus again and lost myself in tears. He poured me a glass of wine and I drown my sorrows in it. We skipped dinner. I don't skip dinner unless I'm sick and I'm not sick. Hours of crying went by and he was still there watching me. I was beyond bothered. What was once an indifference. It was now a dull presence in my life. Will you help me? Please help me. I wanted to say these words, but I couldn't avoid the fact that he was the reason why I felt abruptly hopeless. The levels of talks idiocy this person had brought into my body in one day were unthinkable. It could be the white drink talking. But he had to go. I couldn't give up my life because he thought so. I couldn't turn down my ambition because this unfamiliar face expressed adversity. I couldn't miss on being happy. I asked him to leave. I didn't scream. I didn't resort to violence. I simply asked him to be absent for good. And just like that, I never saw depression again.