I am the victim of a squishy Octopus called depression. I am a Grinch in love with the damn Octopus.
Octy and I make a fine pair. We've actually been together since I was barely five. When it first befriended me I had cut my finger tips with a blade just to get my ma's attention. The wounds healed, ma didn't get to know about my act and Octy came to stay.
With its soft comforting squishy tentacles it lulled me into a state of gentle sadness. I gave it space to stay in my heart. A loner was born with only one friend who truly understood what emptiness was all about -Octy my depression pal.
Over time as I aged so did Octy and it lost one of its tentacles called self pity. Without that tentacle Octy became an invalid I remembered once in a while.
Octy became a childhood friend I tolerated by polite restrain. With a family and the world demanding my attention I had little time to spare and Octy slithered back into a silent corner of my heart.
Until one fine day certain circumstances made me go knocking on Octy's residence demanding attention. I needed the numbing comfort that only Octy's embrace could provide me. Old friends always forgave each other.
Octy acted as if I had never ignored him. He took me in and everything became sort of hazy.
It continues to be sort of hazy. You see, this holiday season Octy has come to stay by my side. We watch the world go by with a strange sort of painful sadness.
Proble is even Octy is not happy.
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