Some days, when the morning stretches into the evening and brushing my teeth is a Herculean task, I think about how comforting my sadness is.
No one has wrapped me so tightly in an embrace, no one has ever been such a constant, no one has ever consumed me in such a way. My sadness overwhelms me with its love.
How, then, do I rid myself of my oldest friend? How do I say goodbye to the companion that has been by my side since I was young?
So maybe my refusal for medication and my skipping therapy has more to do with wanting this twisted love than laziness.
Without my sadness I am good, I am bright and excited. But I do not feel loved. I feel incomplete and as if I have left my glasses behind. I cannot see without my sadness there to taint every memory I have.
My depression is a living breathing thing within me, and it wins more than it loses. But it's victories are soft, they lay within my stillness in the dark and long days spent in my bed. It wants me to sleep, forever and ever. How can you say that, is not kind?
It may plague my dreams and spur on my nightmares, but it wants me to sleep. It wants me to find comfort in its destruction. Is it so bad that I do?
This pain is a lover and I am a hopeless romantic. The world will never see us together, but when I'm alone, I allow it in my arms, my legs, my lungs, my mind. It is there, beneath the skin of my body, forever taunting me with its permanence.
My secret lover, my depression.
YOU ARE READING
Lost In My Head
Şiir"This is something that I hope no one will ever see, because this one thing..... Just this once, I wish to treasure for only me" ★★★★★★★★★★★★★★ A book of poetry and prose, and the general musings of my fucked up mind
