Let us talk about what makes me feel good.
But this time, I won't share it on
my therapist's green couch or
my psychiatrist's wooden chair
or to myself when I feel myself slowly start to slip.
You see, I am prescribed an anti-depressant.
And while that little pill makes me feel better
makes the pain look less appealing
makes my tears pause
makes the fog dissipate
and makes the suffering silenced,
I cannot say it makes me feel good.
Rather, the happiness comes from my strength.
For without me
this depression would not have a home.
But because of me,
I have learned to manage the roommate.
One day I will have the whole place to myself
which is happy.
But because of my raw resilience,
I am happy.