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How hard can demons be fought after having gotten first depressed at the age of 6?
Those long trips from gramma's house to where I lived drove me out of the commonest thoughts a child could have. I always feared dark areas - whether rooms or halls, streets or spaces under my bed. There was hardly a time when we left early for my parents dwelling, so the place where we took our public transport was rather gloomy. I closed my eyes to avoid the visions of unknown people passing by. However, darkness lay as well under my eyelids. Death, as uncertain as it has always seemed, was usually the first thing to pop. The religious version of it, which began being presented to me since I was real little, never made sense to me. I felt a deep void & found no explanation for what could happen to me after dying. I felt quite afraid. I tended to feel depressed after every single commute. Life appeared short in spite of being such a young kid.
The flow of alienation or angst never stopped going to & fro. People praised skills & grades at school. Someone dared saying I could be a genius & needed any sort of challenge to keep up to some expectations due to my 'intelligence.' I always asked myself if there was a bigger challenge than dealing with this unique mood of mine. One I know told me she embraced her being different. To me, it used to be such a burden that I once wished I were ordinary. Later on, I reached up for my singularity & stuck to it, but the drama which came from my ups & downs remained.
Years through secondary & high school & a first job passed by & I never stopped becoming depressed. Twice was I told to rely on tranquilizers & hardly did I take that seriously. Three years of constant burning did not tear my stubborn appeal for life. Somehow, various albums I ran into infused optimism & a hope for what I used to believe in could come back & set appropriately to never be removed again.
[Hey KidA...]
I stayed neither sunken nor afloat, just by the partially dark part of the 'sea.' The haunt of 'not-knowing-what' which accompanies the absence of light lost strength, yet it constantly called my name. One time, I gave myself to someone eventhough there was no forseeable fortunate consequence. I will not regret I did [priceless tiny moment which cannot be undone] New fears rose when I found my heart cracked [or scratched, or slashed...I just don't know] on a note left on my lower bunk bed.
How easily can demons be fought after having gotten first depressed at the age of 6?
Nowadays solitude drives my evenings every now & then, darkness smiles back at me while trying to mock the moon, types of notes flood my brain & paranoia+sarcasm ride me away.
Oh, yeah...I have given myself to someone else.
[Hey KiddA...I am so in love]

Demons of sand, but demons at the end.