It caught me off guard.
The fist landed squarely between my eyes.
I reeled from the shock of impact.
It clobbered me senseless.
I struggled to stay on my feet, barely standing.
Before I passed out, I saw it.
The ugly, gloating, bloated, mean face of depression taunting me.
I had lost to it again.
Try as hard as I could; it defeated me.
I couldn’t pry the cold, sharp, merciless claws of self-loath, heaviness, self-pity that were on top of me now.
My whole being trembled, shook and ached.
Help! I mouthed, no sound coming out.
With the last dregs of strength, I had left, I yelled.
I wobbled to my knees, weak, worn-out, wary.
As long as I wasn’t laying down, I still had hope, I mumbled.