Depression (Solo)

Depression is a thing. An actual thing. It... well... it isn't quite how the symptoms describe it. Nothing can quite describe the feeling of depression without first experiencing it themselves. Its... its not really a pain... he wasn't really in agony. No, he felt something else. He felt hollow, as if his entire chest seemed to be filled with air. He felt sluggish, tired, but not sad. He didn't feel as if he were going to break down every night or cry himself to sleep. No, in fact, besides one time, Salzem hadn't cried since his decent into depression. He never felt the need to. None of that felt important. No longer going back to Konoha seemed to appeal to him. Nothing really did. Memories, though, those did cause him pain, those did get his attention. He'd go about his day in Sunagakure, hunting, half-heartedly training, then an old memory from his childhood or an image of a "friend" would pop up in his mind and he'd reflexively flinch away, as if they were threatening his life. If only they were, because then he'd be able to defend himself. Days went by slower than the shifting sands of which he lived on. Each day, the hollowness within himself seemed to stretch and grow to the point that if one could see the irritating, itching emptiness that curdled within him, he'd appear transparent. It didn't hurt him either, the feeling. It was just annoying, irritating, a feeling akin to anticipation, but with.... something else. As stated before, he wasn't sad. He... he just wanted this horrible, itching emptiness to go away. To disappear. Of course, the way an itch disappears is by scratching it. A scratch causes pain that fades along with the itch so it was a relatively simple fix.

It was worse inside his skull, the hollow feeling. Inside was a deafening white noise that made it impossible to focus. It was so HARD to keep his attention on any one thing! It made him want to just crack his head against a solid wall, just enough so the pain clears his mind. Just for a little while... Salzem wanted so badly to just slam his head into something dense and solid, over and over until his mind cleared. He wanted to... BUT, of course, the werewolf endured, or at least, attempted to. It didn't last long. The white just grew too loud, the images came more frequent, Salzem just couldn't take the horrible, annoyance of both! He got to his little alley-corner in Suna and proceeded to bash his white-wolven forehead into one of the protruding corners. Oh, how delicious the pain felt compared to the white-noise that hummed in his head. For a second, a dull ringing took the place of the whitenoise. It was so refreshing the clarity he could see the world in while his skull throbbed. It was almost as if every throb pushed back the horrible empty feeling... But good things come to an end and some, very soon. The emptiness came back swiftly, absorbing the clarity he had as a storm might absorb a small island. What else could he do other than slam his head into the corner again? He didn't want his clarity to go away. He didn't want the horrible hollow feeling in his mind, seeping its insidious tentacles into his being. HE DIDN'T WANT THIS. But he was infected with something no one could heal and with no other cure, Salzem slammed his head into the wall. He eventually drew blood, but he couldn't quite remember when. He remembered the cold, thick red drops running down his forehead and over his face where he could see them. He also remembered the blood-soaked crater where he had slammed his head. Eventually, he lost consciousness and all was well. In his dreams, he had some degree of peace. Some. For you see, Salzem didn't have any dreams. He didn't have any nightmares either. He drifted through a sleep that was as hollow as he was. No, it wasn't even sleep. Unconsciousness wasn't anything like sleep. It was empty, it was cold and uncomfortable. It felt like a mirror with no face. It did to him. The relief came when he... when he... Nah. Forget it. Relief didn't come. Salzem had no rest, only a few minutes of empty stillness before his Lycan regeneration forced him up.

Salzem awoke, blood still pooled on his forehead, but nothing fresh. He opened his eyes, being met with black skies and a silver ball amongst it, a sight that once invigorated the werewolf now he only met with a certain apathy. Feh. Salzem was lying on his back, arms and legs spread wide in their respective directions. He almost was in the shape of a crooked star, if crooked stars looked like werewolves who tried to bash their own brains in. He placed a massive wolven paw to his forehead, the cold blood spreading over his palm. Salzem couldn't tell if he had slept through most of this night or into the next one. They all looked the same, didn't they? That what he told himself and he agreed. Feh. A grueling familiarity that only brings on frustration when reminded of it. Yes indeed, Salzem was alive, awake, and physically in tip-top shape, staring at a sky that seemed to mock him. With frustration came white-noise and with white-noise came the return of the world's worst itch. Salzem put both of his huge paws to the side of his head, the one soaked in blood painting the side of his head in read. He then squeezed, pressing his hands together until his skull between them began to ache. Cleansing pain flooded into his brain like water from a dam. He smiled as he let his arms fall to his sides, letting the dull, slow throbbing do it's work on the noise. Eventually, Salzem got himself up and cleaned his fur from the water puddle beneath an open faucet that acted as his water-source. He didn't really care to remember when he got up.

He walked around outside, breathing in the air while constantly aware of nothing breathing down his neck. It made him anxious, as if he'd turn around and see Isshin's corpse standing behind him. For that reason, he refused to look back until he had to head back. He bee-lined it straight for the training area, hoping he could find some solace in training, getting stronger again and to his surprise, he found some! Despite his hopes, he really didn't think that destroying a few dummies would make him feel any better, but he did! He ripped chunks off their cylindrical forms piece by piece with one, and with another, he tore out a chunk with his teeth. It felt... good? He felt great, actually. It provided him with a wonderful distraction from the horrible itch of emptiness but still, his body betrayed him as it grew weary, tiring out, burning. Feh. The fun was over. He returned to his corner where he attempted to sleep. He ended up staying awake the entire night. He was not blessed with a single second of sleep. 

(EXIT)
(WC: 1202)

Claiming 6 stats

Approved.