Insanity (on depression)

Losing touch with reality, not knowing what is real what is not. Getting distanced out from your memory,  your used-to-be strongest forte. Becoming a defunct in the simplistic everyday chores. Time travelling in your sleep, waking every hour to find out that it’s always earlier and penetrating once more into the dream world to live in another fantasy. Playing God, so omnipotent yet lonely. Alone. Living your social moments as a vegetable, an over-thinking cauliflower. Witnessing everlasting shifts in your likes and dislikes and slowly delving into insanity, dancing on its boundaries and actually enjoying it with a sour taste of handful of crushed grapes in your mouth.
And everything; each action and dream repeating itself,  becoming a daily routine. Boredom without limits.

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