Depression Is My Kryptonite

Restless In This House

Panic and fear lay restlessly in my chest.
My eyes feel like they're going to fall out.
It hurts to breathe.
Cold warmth is a thick blanket for my back.
It's become comforting again.
Coddling me like I'm a small child.
I don't know how to get through to you to see of you're alright.
Are you okay?
It terrified me when you hung up last night.
I can still hear the hitch in your breath as you sobbed filtering through my ears.
I'm worried.
I'm always worried, especially about you.
I like knowing whether you're okay or not.
I like days like yesterday where we just talk for hours.
Seemingly aimless until we start to get more personal, you just making weird sounds to make me laugh.
Listening to you sing songs from Shrek the Musical.
You asking if I'm okay, when it's obvious I'm not.
Especially since I was army crawling down the hall to distract myself from the pain.
Listening to you question whether or not I'm on drugs.
We shed some tears and shared some stories.
It was a great day yesterday, I hate that it ended that way.
Was it something I said that triggered a memory?
Or does this happen every night?
Did it help that I was there?
I tried to get through to you.
Through here, by texting you.
I'm still trying.
I don't know if you're still asleep or not.
It's the unknowing that scares the shit out of me.
Which you've learned at this point.
I'm still trying to figure out what you said through your tears right before you hung up.
It didn't make sense, it was indistinct.
I texted you this morning, and called, and wrote.
I really do hope that you're just asleep and that you're okay.
When you awake will you please call me?
I'm terrified still.
Gah. My head is pounding, all of the alarms are sounding again.
Not just about you, about everything.
I think it has something to do with this house.
It used to be my home.
It used to be my Papaw's throne.
She's taking it apart.
Dismantling its familiar structure.
I thought that it was my safe place, I'm not so sure anymore.