Depression

Thu, 06/26/2014 - 12:32 -- csaljj

Location

It’s insecurity at its peak.

Everything is taken to heart.

Every movement you make feels weak.

You slowly but surely fall apart.

 

You wither down to the tiniest shed of skin.

Never again will you present an honest grin.

You hold on to the littlest bit of hope, that maybe

You’ll wake up happy…

Ready to embrace the day

Instead of having to live in gray haze.

 

To one of the norm,

Living in a gray haze is too surreal to comprehend.

It’s probably the loneliest place known to man.

It’s very deleterious.

No one hears your cries for help.

No matter how loud, no matter how serious.

 

You wouldn’t even realize you’re living in it.

Your mind is cerebral.

Everything you do turns into something regrettable.

The good part of being in a gray haze is you see things you never saw..

Things you wouldn’t believe at all.

How judge-mental your peers are.

How badly other people are scared.

 

Doctors may classify it as a chronic depression.

But hearing those words makes your self-esteem lessen.

Couldn’t they have thought of a name that doesn’t make you yawn?

Maybe something like… the word Gone.

 

Sorry to inform you sir but you have been diagnosed with a terrible case of Gone.

It can be cured in a day, or maybe a year, or three, or four, or maybe more.

It all depends on when you feel like being found. And you may not like how this sounds…

But it’s very contagious.

 

Then you respond: Well that’s outrageous!

Doctor, I’m sorry but you have it all wrong. May I explain what’s going on?

 

I am drowning in my own weakness.

Startled by my insecurity.

Scared of my callous soul.

My emotions are ever so cold.

 

It is true I am lost, but not under any circumstances do I want to be found.

I rather be alone six feet under ground.

 

I feel so far away… completely detached.

Prescribe me therapy and pills do whatever you feel.

But here’s what your brain needs to latch.

You won’t save the little that’s left of me.

I am locked up and will never be set free.

You’ll simply be creating a whole new me.

 

Don’t feel bad… you’re an amiable person and

I understand the diagnosis you have stated.

I’ll just never be consecrated.

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741