A Depressed Hypocrite's Monologue Poem by Souren Mondal

Very powerful, Souren. Very real. When people need other people the most is when they are often ridiculed or abandoned. I feel your pain and I know that there is little or nothing I can do. If I were there with you now, I would give you a big hug and probably not say a word, for I would not know what to say. I don't think it's an exaggeration to say that I hate life and dislike most of this world, and if I wasn't such a coward, I would go kiss a speeding train. I will send you my Email address if you would ever like to just unload on me. Peace and love my dear friend.

There's truth pouring out of this piece friend. It addresses many of the biggest bullet points of the matter. The difference between sadness and depression. The search by outsiders for the so called 'true root' (I.e. Smoking atheism) of what is actually a mental illness. The stigmatize which is almost as bad (and sometimes far worse) than the condition itself. The societal misunderstanding... Cheer up.... It will get better... Blah blah blah. They are words without weight. The brain and the brain alone can decide when a person with depression will begin to recover. You can't be talked out of it, you can't be lifted up by kind words... Much like other diseases, it has to run its course. Much like other diseases, medication can sometimes help, sometimes do nothing, and sometimes work against you. The biggest takeaway from this piece for me is your sincere compassion. You speak to the people who have done wrong by you, either not supported or turned their backs on you in the toughest of times, but even these people (who you have no obligation to care so immensely for) you vow to them that if ever they find themselves in your shoes, you will stand by them and at least try to help. Thanks for sharing with us Souren. It's good to hear from you. And do take care of yourself. From friend to friend I wish you all the best

Monologue form reminds me of Hamlet. It's a powerful write. It's really helpful to talk to ourselves sometimes. Social pressures get to us all so you speak for many of us here. You write with an artist's sensitivity. Kudos.

I came back to the poem to enjoy the feeling I got by first reading.The beautiful feeling that to be a real human you have to struggle against the great expectations of social hypocracy first, to admitt the difficulty of being true to yourself before being to the others.It's a victory of the preconditions needed to become an active part of a community who does not want to take advantage of profits offered but is eager to give his own soul for the common profit.Great sensitive personalities sometimes do flinch in front of the struggle they have to give in order to prove how marvellous is this struggle.The real joy of life is not life itself by the struggle and fight for a life in dignity.The poem here of our friend, Souren Mondal, shows us the open horizon of the life in dignity.

I too have wrestled with deprerssion. It runs in my family, that is, my mother (she would never acknowledge it, so the rest of us had to suffer her moods) , so I went into therapy and camr out on the other end, like Gilamesh entering the gods' paradise via a dark tunnel that almost destroys him but instead makes him stronger. Well, maybe. But your mind is agile and can talk back to that black dog of depression. Talk it down, beat it with words, conquer it with the very mind it is trying to darken.

In the position of what is called depression-which I have experienced myself-one has the chance to count how deep is the abyss of the human soul.It's a great experience to fall into the abyss of the great interogations of the human being.There soon comes the turning point when you will feel like my Sisyphus happy to roll uphills the rock burden of life.Being in the position of depression is like being in the position of a pressed spring, qualified that way to be ready to undertake the path going uphill.One has to think of himself happy by the chance to pass through the purgatory of depression.Best greeting by my thanks of reming me the path I passed once through, dear Souren.

This is the most powerful poem I have read in many months- perhaps because it is brutally honest, perhaps because it is fueled by hurt and rage, perhaps because it is justified. Reading it again, I really think much of its power comes from its very justified hurt. Reading this makes me face it- - I must research this illness/state of being called depression... I have avoided it for far too long and probably hurt the one I love. [In my defense, another loved one is battling Stage 4 cancer and that is tearing me apart limb by limb because of the helplessness and terror and sleepless nights that that scourge engenders in those who must sit and watch the chemo poison the one they love.] What can I say but thank you for baring your soul and thank you for stabbing me in the heart with remorse... sometimes that is what a real poet is being called to do. Awaken people to the needs of others- simple needs really... compassion... research... being there in a real way not just in a buzz- words only way.... love... in the end it all comes down to love.

'Cause dear fellow humans, my friends by default I am a hypocrite, but not the one who shows pity not the one who looks down upon others Just the one who knows all pains are real.. And a little help is crucial We all crave for care and compassion from the people we love. But we don't find them anywhere when we need them the most... Everyone are adorned with judgemental masks hiding their ugly side in sugar coated words. Very powerful poem highlighting the societies ugly side. Hats off for writing the truth.