Depressed is the new black

Dare I look at myself in the glass to view, what a mess I have turned into? I look and see a figure that could be me, and I must confess that down and depressed fits me best. Dark and alone in this big cold home, that was once my castle,tall and full of laughter. After some time it was no long sublime and depression became my captor. He grabbed me up and my crown fell to the ground, then without my permission my castle became my prison. No matter what people do or say I cannot seem to get away. Encouraging words and genuine love is out there but, mean, twisted, harsh words is all I hear in my mind. I am afraid that some day the sadness wont leave and I will never return to me. Instead of looking for help, I sit alone with myself. Weak and frail, ugly and vile, worthless and broken, thoughts that I start to believe in. There was once happiness and confidence, now replaced with hate and loneliness. Eventually the depression cycle will end and I will return to me again.

Bleeding happiness

Depression strikes like a cobra with fangs lodged deep and venom flowing like a river in my arms to my heart and all I want to do is cut it out of me so I can feel happy again.

The miracle of birth.... Or not.

My question of the day is why do we call it the miracle of birth? I will first address this is not a feminist blog, it is just me ranging so don't get butt hurt about what I have to say, simply stop reading. Now that I have said that... It starts with some four play, heavy breathing, less and less clothes, the lack of a condom, some fast pased heart beats, and some cum. Time passes, a women becomes heaver and more irritable. Some more time passes and whame this nasty screaming blood covered, alien pops out of your happy hole, but not leaving it happy in any means. How is that a miracle? You put two horny teens in a room alone it s not a miracle that they make a baby, its common since or the lack there of on your part.