Depression

Life; a train, the carriages the sections of your life, memories sanctioned by doors, some open some closed. Some carriages derail, the memory lost, others kept together by wrought iron, strong and industrialised, memories you don't want to lose. We keep moving along that train, carriage by carriage until we reach the end to meet a man in a black cloak who takes us to our next train.
But sometimes when we open a carriage door it reveals sheer horror, things from nightmares. Our brain recoils, we scream and the train distorts, doors of happiness are barred and when we force our way in no matter how many carriages we go through we constantly see what we want to forget, no escape for eternity.
That is depression; a train spiralling to nowhere, never ending, no stops, the only way off is to jump off the train, into the abyss of uncertainty into someone's arms and hope that they catch you and then bring you back from the abyss; you bleeding and broken physically and spiritually but very much alive. You then leave the darkness behind talk about your long, desolate journey on that train and slowly but surely you heal. And then when you are ready you climb back on your train, ready to carry on the journey except now you take a deep breath, steady yourself and open each carriage door more slowly...