BDSM and the lifestyle

Depression wears funky shoes...does not matter what they look like, anymore, they all hurt and bring tears to my eyes.Food fills a void. And then my reflection hurts as well. Days pass. Alone most of the time with little that asks to be done.
Care becomes a bird with no feathers that cannot fly. Hope is my shoe sole with lots of holes. Nothing matters. Nothing changes. Especially me...days come and go and will, till i die, my next horizon, the grave, how exciting. Sun rises and sets as if change cannot happen. Tick tock...tick tock...
Am i waiting for Godot? Should i pin my eyelids open or no, maybe closed. Maybe not seeing what is before would help.
And...maybe not...ah well...time heals all or, if nothing else, takes what we want and leaves us to make a legacy. i have only words to hold what has been and could never be. Something happened and joy left me.