An exercise

Sometimes my life seems to take a sudden, sharp turn left. My conscious mind, knowing it should be following a sensible, forward path, tries hard to overcome it, but the demon inside my skull has other plans. The world takes on odd colours; lights are brighter; and objects develop hardened edges. Suddenly I am scared. Everything is too close: traffic, walls, people. And I need to push them away.

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69 words
I used to take part in regular writing challenges, but somehow I have diverted from them. I must try harder to keep my creative juices flowing.  This is just as the words came out of my head. I might edit later.

Contemplation

If the world was ending tonight, how would you feel? Looking back over your life, long or short, would you be proud or ashamed; content or raging? We all have dreams when we are young, and some people achieve them. Some go out of their way to follow them, while others have them fall into their hands by happenchance. Others realise their desires are impossible and find new ambitions to take their place.

Some people’s worlds will end tonight. Lives will stop, suddenly or after a long fight, but always cruelly. Life is never long enough to fulfil all one’s aspirations. Even for those who wish that death would take them, there will always be something else hoped for but never attained. Happiness, a good job, a true love, a life well lived, a sense of completion. 

Now imagine that your world will not end tonight. What will you do tomorrow to add to your store of goals achieved? You have only one life, long or short. So make it count.

To my depression

You're not going to win.

You might think you'll always be there, and perhaps you will, but you can not beat me. You are small enough to fit inside my head so you cannot take over my life. You can distort my thoughts, you can make me believe that lies are true, but I know what you are trying to do and you Will...  Not... Triumph.

I am aware of you. I am better than you. I can beat you.

You are the black dog and a dog can be trained.

So sit.
Stay.
Roll over.
Play dead.

Of COURSE I hear voices.....

“I really think you need to see a specialist, a psychiatrist” he said, “I know just the man.  You’ll like him. And he’s very good.”

She didn't want to see a stranger, to talk over her fears and the voice in her head that criticised and nagged at her throughout the day and in the dark hours of the night. Not that she heard voices or anything like that. No alien invader violated her mind to feed her strange instructions about papering over the windows or wearing foil hats to keep the radio waves out. She recognised the voice all too well. It was hers; and it really should speak to her more kindly than it did because she didn’t deserve some of the things it said even though her life resembled a ball of wool that a kitten had played with and she had difficulty thinking of a single achievement she could be proud of from the last few years.  But somehow she could not silence it. Her. The other Her.

The voice had been there for as long as she could remember, with its sarcastic commentary on her life and its little hints about how much better she could be doing for herself if only she worked harder, aimed higher, dressed more smartly, concentrated longer, spent less, lost weight, and all the hundreds of other great improvements she needed to make.

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From an abandoned project. I suspect a lot of people can relate to this.

EDIT:  Later, after reading Jarmara's comment.(below) Currently abandoned. Because I got several chapters in and had no idea how or why the poor character was in that state.  But I shall have to go back and rescue the poor girl some day.