Depression does not discriminate. It infiltrates any mind that be vulnerable. There is no defense, no cure.
I myself have been battling sever depression for 6 years now. A little over a year ago I was losing my grip on the will to live. That is when writing presented itself to me. I say it that way because writing had never been present in my life. So it was strange to say the least when I had this uncontrollable need to write. I tried to ignore this, but it consumed me. So I sat down, pen in hand, not a clue what I was doing and started writing. As if on auto pilot, I wrote a poem. Tortured. When I finished and read what I had wrote, I cried. Only these tears were not of pain, they were of relief. After I wrote Tortured I felt a little lighter, less crowded and for the first time in a long time I caught a glimpse of optimism.
Depression is an everyday battle. Winning them all is impossible. Finding the right weapon to combat it is essential. Writing is mine. Every poem is a small victory.