the night the stars fell - poetry collection

more than depression

i am more than my depression, although most days my mind inexplicably yearns for the comfort of sadness. dark is needed to appreciate the light, but i have experienced so much darkness, that if the light never set, i would still wake up to admire her light as if it was the first time i was seeing her. the heavy weight that sits on my chest, threatening to suffocate me, will dissipate—evaporated by the light rays of light. my mind yearns for this too, although she cannot figure out how to drop her yearning for sadness. she stills, watching life pass in a muddle of grays, occasional spots of yellow dot the canvas of my emotional timeline, but the overwhelming colors of gray silence her. there is black too—the moments where i drowned out my droning life with sleep. seven to fourteen hour periods where although i was plagued by nightmares, the relief of waking up and realizing it wasn't real made it worthwhile. the canvas hangs in the recesses of my skull, reminding my mind just how difficult it would be to paint with another color. perhaps she chooses green—but what would green even look like. would she be envy? disgust? hateful jealousy? if she chooses purple, would she the be forced to chronicle all my irrational fears and encompassing anxieties? looking back at her palate she and resigner herself to black, gray, and yellow—understanding that its easier to push away her desire for light than it is to pursue the absence of dark.