Diary of Depression

Why does depression seem to sweep me up in its arms more than my boyfriend? My dark sense of humor or my sadistic thoughts I carry around with me always. Maybe but when I wait for death to show up to the party, depression always steals the light. Like it's auditioning for a talent show, at it everyone stares; but they're outside and don't see the duel of life happening between me and death itself. Misery's on my side, though. Death isn't the company Misery wants anyways; you cant feed off of lifelessness. Misery thinks I'm the perfect meal. Balanced diet of loneliness and everything I have except confidence. It's never been my strong suit and I don't have the right recipe for it anyways. Someone will teach me someday, though. Right now, though, the silence, it deafens me catatonically, which is good sometimes. Better than my head swarming with ways not to live. Easy ways, fun ways, dramatic ways. Dark thoughts condemn my skull like bedbugs at a sleazy hotel. Still searching for the extermination recipe.