In the pits of depression

As they approach steadfastly, I back away in a medium of awkward fear.
Its an impulse,a reaction. Like when one gets pricked by a needle and yells.
Its ironic how i'm doing psychology and social work.
They seized to increase my acknowledgement of the uneasiness and fear in me.
Dying young now as cowardly as it seems approaches like an appetizing meal.
My heart aches with each beat.
Laughter turns to tears.
Movements become stagnant.
I need a true friend.
Superficiality doesnt count. It never has.
When will I regain myself?