It's Coming Back


I can feel it returning,
slowly working its way back into my system;
the depression.  
I can feel it in the way my hands ache and stumble when I'm writing.  
I can feel it, heavy in my stomach.  
Like I'm going to be sick.  
Like I need to eat.  
But the though of food makes me feel
even worse.  
And everything that goes in my mouth I have to
spit back out.  
I can feel it in the way my eyes droop
and I look away from the world.  
I stare at the floor.  
And it's so hard not to cry.  
I can feel in in the way that everything,
reminds me of how much I hate myself.
I felt fine this morning, but
by lunchtime everything was
Courtney asked me,
what happened between this morning and...
and I didn't know what to tell her
because I don't know what happened.  
All I can remember
is all the bad things he's said.  
And I know that's not right because,
"Let me turn the light on; I want to see how beautiful you are."
I just need to keep reminding myself of that.  
And every other thing that gets me through the day.
But this sucks.



Oh. my. gosh. I want to hug this writer so bad! I'd love to discus inspiration and stuggles, this actually looks like my personal poetry collection. 

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