Good friend M asked me a very simple question regarding depression.
I gave her an essay long answer.
Suddenly I felt very insecure.
I was afraid that my overzealousness may not be taken well.
I certainly do not live to the saying, 'misery loves company'.
I absolutely feel convicted to minimise the number of victims Depression/Mental Illness -could claim.
My essay answer got even longer.

"My mental disorder is a lifetime battle for me.
I have to fight it everyday.
I wonder what's my purpose here.
Till this very day, I still browse the obituary page.( I have done this for a very long time / read more)
I want to see the people whom DEATH had taken instead of me.
It's a creepy habit I can't break.
I tell myself that my purpose here is to help at least one person breathe a little easier...no matter how small my contribution. It's the only thing that keeps me going
I have to convince myself that I have a purpose here.
I tell myself that I do not and can not seek Death.
Death do not take non-listed guests kindly.
I have to "earn" my rightful audience with Death, which of course its merits isn't determined by me.
Damn eerie.. but it's the truth..."

Now alone, rereading the above, there's a nagging feeling twisting inside me.
There was never a time where Darkness had ever left me alone.