I'm not very subtle about the way I feel. It's hard for me to outright say Depression, but I swivel around the word in such tight circles you'd have to be stupid or in denial to not know it was there. I'm not sure why. It's embarrassing, sometimes. I think back to those moments that I let my guard drop. I imagine I was a skeleton, bones webbed with layers of hot glue, unable to hide the dark mass that's encasing my soul. I wonder what it'd be like if it broke. Shattered to unveil...what? Some colorful mass, sputtering and ready to supernova. It's barely whole by now.
I'm such a drag, trying to describe these images that I can see so clearly. A makeshift me. Whatever. My point is, maybe I'm so open because I want someone to fix me. I've already failed too many times to try again.
