A Letter to the Writer
Dedicated to my depression
Based in truth
Dear Mr. Specific,
Recently there have been reports running around of your psychological downturn and I am writing to you on behalf of your conscious.
To be quiet honest with you I have grown deeply concerned. For you seem to be, and forgive me of my lack of phrasing, slightly miserable. There has been a lack of vigor, a lack of confidence, and a lack of happiness. You have lost what you have gained, if you are to believe the pessimists. Fortunately, I am an optimist and although it may seem bleak and dismal now, I take the position that you merely do not know what you gained and cannot see what you will gain. You are stuck in comatose, a state of suspended disillusion that the world around is moving on and you are simply sitting in the same position you were five years ago.
Five years you told me that you wanted to embark on something extraordinary and when you told me what it was I thought it was worth the journey. I wanted to believe that you could make a grim situation like genocide into something worth fighting against. We should not have to write warning signals when there are plenty of cases supporting this fact: genocidal campaigns decrease the population as well as diminish the hope and idea of humanitarianism.
As we progressed, I noticed that your face changed from ferociously determined to war beaten and distraught. It was as if you had experienced death, survived it, and were living as if you were no longer with me. Your mind became distorted and you started talking in your sleep, you talked of charging the gates, releasing the prisoners, setting ablaze the fascistic houses and the communistic bungalows. You became a war mongrel despite having never left your house.
It was here I suggested therapy and I took it upon myself to attend those sessions with you, in the hopes of making you better. For, I knew that if I was going to be with you, I might as well understand your mind, and more specifically, how to heal it.
Now with the dismal past behind us, there is nothing but the majestic future and the glorious present ahead. Yet, as we sit and converse here now over memories, you slowly begin to drift into your sadness and the other day when I asked you why it was you were this way all you said was:
'I simply need help'
Here then is the advice that I can give to you and I pray that it serves you well:
Firstly, no matter how dreadful life becomes, be extremely grateful that spiders do not have wings. For if they did, you can be sure that panic and mass hysteria would ensue and nothing worth mentioning would ever be accomplished again because we would all fear that arachnids would fall on our heads and nest in our ears.
Secondly, you are never alone and you never were. For if you were truly alone, then you would be in an empty room and empty rooms do not exist. I am sure you remember that phrase.
Thirdly, remember to smile and insert the old saying about it.
Fourthly, there is no greater duty than friendship to those who need it, love to those who yearn for it, and support for those who have none.
Lastly, be strong and courageous in all that you do.
Yours in all sincerity and merit,
Reepicheep H. Daren