Farewell Letter to my Black Dog of Depression

Inspired by this amazing video: 

To my ever-present black dog of depression,

I know you think that time has made you loyal, but you've over-stayed your welcome. There was a time when I thought it normal to have you nipping at my heels, and sleeping on my chest so that it was hard to breathe. I thought that was what 'safe' felt like. You think that by transforming yourself into a weary, needy burden, that I've become as dependent on giving in to you as you are on keeping me down. It's time that you know: our co-dependency has come to a sharp and definitive end.

No more will I let your judgmental looks steal my motivation, no longer will perfection be the standard to which you hold all my endless false starts, never again will I lose sleep and waking peace to your snarling insinuations that I'm not good enough nor will I let you slow me to a halt by digging in your heels in name of other people's approval.

I'm onto your tricks and I have the remedies in hand. Our break will be violent and quick, and though it drive you mad, I will leave the edges rough and imperfect because even in the method of my departure you will have no voice.

You have proven yourself incapable of healthy companionship. To be linked with you and your insatiable weariness is to be anchored to the ocean floor in the middle of raging storm, trapped without air, cold and alone. You've lost my trust, fool that I was to give it to you. You are not a loyal dog, you are treacherously deceptive. You offer no comfort, only negativity and despair. You are a void within which there is no life, hope or direction. Yours is a near stagnant existence that degrades into nothing over time and I will not resign myself to your fate just because you aren't strong enough to get free on your own.

I can see you clearly now. You've bared your teeth and I've seen they have no bite. All the worry, anxiety and fear you bring to my door, as though they were trophies of your devotion and protection, all of it is as easily forgotten as it is gathered. All I have to do is keep moving. You are slow, clumsy and weak. Even a modest pace is too much for you to endure, and so from this state of motion I say my goodbyes. Not so that you hear them, but so I feel my own sense of closure and remove the last of your claws from my back while your manipulative whimper fades into the day as I roll decidedly ahead into the invigorating sun.

Good riddance, black dog,

Your formerly depressed owner.