Depression is a funny thing.
It is the voice in the back left corner of your head,
that whispers, "Laugh the loudest. Be the brightest person
in this room, or they will know. They will know
how much you want to fucking die."
Depression says things like, "Wear bright colors and
go out with your friends. Maybe it will quell
the maelstrom for a moment
a moment or two
for a month
for a year,
but you know I'll still be waiting for you
around the corner
in an alley
when you least expect it
or when you do."
It lurks in the edges. It is at home in the periphery,
rearing its head and showing you the inside of its
saw-toothed mouth only
when you finally start to have hope
that maybe the light at the end of the tunnel
is the sun
and not a flashlight
held in the hands of a Parkinson's patient
constantly moving and unreachable.
Depression does things like,
make you go out to bars and pretend that you're drinking to have fun
but really you're drinking to forget how much you hate yourself
and every person around you
and instead it makes you remember how your high school boyfriend called you ugly
and maybe you start to think he was right all along.
Depression tells you things like, "Work harder. Be the best.
If you're the best, then no one will ever suspect
that you're falling apart from the inside out.
Everyone will think that you're normal and
that's all anyone really wants, right?
Normal people don't think about driving through guard rails
or how many knives are in the kitchen.
Normal people don't feel this way, right?
Depression wraps its arms around your waist and kisses your neck like it is your lover
it is the best lover you have ever known
it knows you better than you know yourself
because it has mapped you.
It knows the curves of your body and the nerve patterns that make up your brain and it knows
which buttons to press to make you
It is an endotoxin.
It is a paralytic.
It is mercury in the water.
It is poison.