Prescription for self:

Breathe in love. Breathe out jealousy. Breathe out hate. Breathe out bitterness. Breathe in love.

Breathe in honesty and life. Breathe out cynicism. Breathe out nihilism. Breathe in beauty.

I have to fight these sickly thoughts because they make my heart hurt and contract when I have them. When I only want it to grow, grow, grow. To be strong and tender. To not confuse brittleness, hardness, with strength.

Breathe in possibility. Breathe out the "I Can't"s. Breathe in the dawn.

No one tells you about the habits of depression. The ways of living that are ingrained even after these modern chemicals work their magic. The accommodations you have made for yourself so that you could survive that are not easy to let go of. The way you can still see the world through a depressed person's eyes. How that darkness hovers on the edges, reminding you always of how bad life can be.

There are limits that you have imposed that you are afraid of breaking, because you do not know if on the other side lies that dark cliff. You do not trust these chemicals completely. But you know if you stay still the darkness will seep in. I can'ts and I won'ts and I'll fails will become self fulfilling prophecies, and you know this but it is still hard. And sometimes you feel like your own Cassandra, futiley foretelling the danger.

So.

Breathe in love. Breathe in color. Breathe in taste and sight and sound. Breathe out the fear.