The Sharp World

It's been a week sine I have visited the Sharp World.

That's what I call the place where I go when my depression hits. Currently I'm on 2 anti-depressants in order to help keep me from being kidnapped and taken to the Sharp World.

I call it the Sharp World because when I am there everything, everyone, and every thought feels like they are hurting me with their sharp edges. Thousands of tiny slices constantly on me. Some big ones too but mostly just a slow death by paper cuts.

Getting and out of the Sharp World is not a quick jaunt either. It takes days sometimes weeks to be fully immersed in the world. Sure, there are times when I can turn and suddenly I feel like I am there but that is more akin to a acid flashback. A bad memory striking upon me than the full drowning in **** feeling.

How do I know that the Sharp World isn't real because I ask myself what is really wrong and the answer is I don't know. Everything was going fine and still is going fine. Not much has changed yet everything has changed because everything is **** now.

Knowing the Sharp World isn't real though doesn't help me stay out of it though. I doesn't help me climb out of it when I am there either.

I don't really like the Sharp World. Yet, sometimes when I am not there I feel sorry for people who have never visited because they don't and can't really appreciate the real world.
EyeWiggles EyeWiggles
Jan 18, 2013