Depression — A Poem.

Depression looks like a house.

A house with lights too bright for your eyes
And furniture too delicate for your touch.

It looks like a house that makes you feel out of place;
Makes you feel like you don't belong and never will belong,
Because everything's just too bright for you to take.

But you stay there anyway, because you've nowhere else to go.

Depression looks like that one favourite dress.

That one favourite dress with delicate lace sewn on it's hems that made it look so beautiful;
Made you look so beautiful you felt like a queen,
A maiden so pure and perfect,
A warrior invincible.

But now, you can't look at the dress without bursting into tears.

Because that one favourite dress now reminds you of bitter memories
And words that had struck just too deep in your ever sinking heart.
Now that dress doesn't fit you right,
You can't recognise yourself in it
You don't find yourself looking beautiful anymore.

Instead, it suffocates you and hurts you.
It wraps your body tightly like vines and hurts you.

Even your bones cry out for help.

But you wear it anyway, because it was your favourite dress and you're afraid to throw it away.

Depression is like that one road you have to cross on your way back home everyday.

That one road with broken street lamps that never works
And no one cares enough to fix them.
That one road with cracks on it's once plain concrete path,
And holes with mud pooling inside it like small ponds.

And it's so hard to walk on it.

It's so hard to walk because it leaves scratches and bruises on your clean soft feet and makes them bleed.
Makes you bleed.

The road just splatters mud all over your leg like paint,
Like you are an empty canvas that needs to be filled
Even though you’re not empty.

You, are not empty.

But you still walk on that road everyday,
Because you just want to go home;
And that road seems like the only way back.

Depression is like that crush you have on a boy that never seems to fade.

You yearn for him from afar,
You yearn for him endlessly.
Your feelings for him hits you like waves And scatters all over you.
But you still yearn for him,
Even though you know he'll never look your way.

Even though you know he's not good for you,
You still yearn for him helplessly.

Everything about him hurts.
Everything about him burns you and you feel so cold sometime,
But you still look at him.

You can't help but look at him.
His face is just never out of sight.

Depression is like alcohol.

It's bitter and tastes vile in your mouth and makes it feel dry and sandy.
But you still go back to it.
Because it makes you drunk.

It makes you drunk and makes you forget
Every other thoughts and every other person
Until all you're left with is yourself
And this achingly numb feeling you don't quite know how to describe.

And damn, it's addicting.

It's like a blanket with holes you never get around replacing.
So it just keeps letting in the cold air while you wrap it around yourself at night.

And you have no choice but to sleep with it.

But mostly,

Depression is like that lonely corner of your bathroom
On which you find yourself sitting most nights.

The corner is lonely, and dry and is just in the right position, away from the light.

You can curl yourself perfectly around it
While you sit there and your body just fits.
It fits there perfectly like a missing puzzle piece,
Like all that corner ever needed was you
And your body and your fucked up mind and it just fits,
Even though you never wanted it to.

But you sit there anyway,
Because after all, it's the only thing in your goddamn life that ever fucking fitted.

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