Negative Thoughts.

The Void calls my name, like an old friend, asking how life has been. "I haven't seen you in a while," it says. "You're not growing out of your depression on me now, are you?"

I dare not look at it, let alone answer. I'm too afraid to turn back.

"You were so much more fun when you were worse off," it taunts. "Long nights alone, together with me. Nothing but tears and too many beers. Those were the days."

I want so badly to retort, but if I do, I'll have to accept that it's still there. I can't answer. I don't want the numbness back.

"You've been spending too much time with the colours, man. They're too much for you. C'mon, I know you can hear me. Let's go feel some pain, happiness is too good for you."

I know I have to respond now. It grows too loud to leave it be. I need to respond. My emotions well up.

"Aw, is little Charlie gonna cry? That's what I like to see."

The thoughts won't stop, I know that now. But I have to do something about them.

"Shut the f**k up, Void. I'm going to therapy."