My mother has depression
Hers formed in her childhood
Having to scrape plates for food on her island home and face a culture shock just to raise a kid by herself
Leave abusers and fight the stigma
And Puerto Ricans in New York
It got worse in her military years
She left home to fight wars only to come back and find a battlefield instead of a dinner table
Landmines under dining chairs and grenades instead of small talk
My cousin has depression
The gong of being broke in New York and betrayal do a father figure
His mother had it too, so many it's hereditary
College, jobs, and stress from all spectrums of his life
He didn't see and end to the torment except behind a trigger
But he's found something in his life to live for
A girl he loves and a diploma to show his work
He's working to be the best he can be
I have a predisposition for depression
Too many people in my family have it for me to even count
But I have privileges that they didn't have
I've got food on the table and a future in front of me
My struggles are nothing compared to my mother's
My heartache isn't as strong as my cousin's
Maybe that's why I don't have depression
That's why it doesn't matter that I cry myself to sleep every other night
It doesn't matter why I hate the way the sunlight comes through my blinds in the morning
It doesn't matter why I'm afraid to wear short sleeves
It doesn't matter why I regret coming out
I don't have depression
Everyone tells me so
But then what's wrong with me?
