There is no medication that can cure broken and neglected. It can only help disguise the pain, perhaps manifest anger into a synthetic, unfocused form of "happy".

It is me.
The caustic smell of depression, lingering amongst the fumes of a decaying life.

A riddle that cannot be solved, I have all the wrong answers.

Those memories I wish away seem to always be lurking a little closer in the shadows, never far from my thoughts. The most frightening monsters are made from the remnants of a past I cannot change. If ever there were any good memories, they have fallen from my head like leaves in autumn, crushed beneath the stomping feet of my nightmares.