Depression is my best friend

He says he'll always be there, even when the medication makes me hate him

He says his favourite colour is red, and I ask him why

All he can reply with is, "Well, I like you, and when we're together, I make you see red, so I guess seeing you is what makes me like red."

Depression and I are a sort of friends with benefits, I guess

Sometimes tongue to tongue, cheek to cheek, or fingertips barely pressed together like a paint brush across a ceiling sky

The Creation of Me: the eulogy to a time when I was happy

We went skinny dipping together once, slipping freely into the cold withering body of mine

I couldn't help but press into him, feel my weak pulse through his skin, and I kissed him under a sky that would never shine

My friends don't understand when I say he completes me

Without him I am empty, with him, I'm just tired

But I'd rather be tired than empty; it's easier to forget when you're tired

My family doesn't like it when I draw on my skin, but I do it to forget that it's easier to do with a blade

Depression wants me to open my ribcage so he can see my heart for what it really is

Wants me to hold my breath until I can't anymore to breathe into him the feelings I get when I am not with him

I paint my nails to keep from biting them until I bleed red, because when I see red, it reminds me of his favourite colour

Sorry, if I sound tired, I'm just a little empty

Depression had things to do, and I'm a little glad of it too

He wanted to call in sick for me, but I told him not to, for fear that people would believe only one of us

I've been sick for a long time now, but Depression doesn't believe in doctors or medication, and hospitals don't take your word for it

They only take you when you're dying, but dying is not an option

I am running out of options, so maybe that's why I turn to Depression

Depression is my best friend

He says he'll always be there for me, even when the medication I am not taking makes me hate him