Depression
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jennycameronCommunity member
Autoplay OFF  •  a year ago
A poem of sorts on how depression feels to me

Depression

Depression can be a lot of things.

It’s the way I stay awake well past 1am, 2am, 4am, not exactly because I have a lot on my mind but exactly because my thoughts are bombarding me to the point that I can’t sleep and there's

nothing I can do about it. It’s the way that my room goes between states of clean and disaster echoing the way that my mind takes on waves of depression and fine because while I’m being

suffocated I just can’t-- don’t have the energy to lift even a sock from my floor. It’s the way that I’m gorging myself on food and the way that I’m eating nothing while I go between the extremes

of trying to fill the hole inside my chest and trying to find the reasons and the energy I need to convince myself to cook something. It’s the way I can’t get out of bed to shower for days on end

and the way I stand there letting the water rush over me for hours while I imagine it washing away these thoughts that are holding me captive. It’s the way that sleeping for 12 hours can turn

into walks that last the night while I wander city streets alone and ponder on the thought that my life is worthless. It’s the way I want to end my life but also how afraid that thought makes me

because half the time I’m picturing the light at the end of the tunnel and imagining better days while the other half that light turns into a freight train. It’s the way that I know as I write

this that not everyone will be able to relate because not everyone has depression or because their depression manifests itself in ways that are completely different to the one that I face.

It’s the way I can simultaneously hate sound and silence, being alone and surrounded, talking and keeping quiet, because all of these are too extreme for me to deal with since they all simply

serve as reminders that I’m not okay. Depression can be a lot of things, but I am not my depression. Yes you can call me depressed because I am but don’t forget to call me a poet too, a student,

a friend, a singer, a fashionista, a tree-hugger. Because despite the tidal waves that feel like they’re going to bury me the thing that buries me the most is being told that I am nothing more

than my depression. Depression may be a lot of things, but I am too.

Thanks for stopping by!

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bernardtwindwilGold CommaGranddad & story teller, tomthepo8.com
a year agoReply
This an excruciatingly beautiful description of depression. You are able to describe it in such a way that no one can doubt​ the honesty of your remarks.

Noilet me breathe///
a year agoReply
this is so true on many levels, and i can relate to it.