Here’s how the depression goes:
It isn’t for the faint of heart
I don’t sleep, I don’t enjoy my children.
It’s Christmas and there are no songs
I have my memories but they are ghosts
The medicine dulls the ache but the pain is worse
I want a room and I want my things and I want the people who looked out for me when I was at my worst.
I like laying on the closet floor in the dark.
There were the people who were sure to give me the wrong name
Because that’s what you have to do, you have to protect yourself.
In places like that, they’ll look for you after
Or I’d look after, anyway.
I miss it, though.
I miss the pretty painting of the bird over the plains
I miss art time.
No one here understands what it’s like.
The doctor asked me who I wanted to hide from once and I didn’t have an answer
But I am hiding because no one really wants to know
So I cry silent tears and I’m afraid I’m never going to find my place
And then there was her.
I was petrified of her and she wasn’t even there.
But he was there, and he was scary.
Who to trust? We were all crazy and we outnumbered them, for sure. I was not safe there.
So why would I want to hide there?
I don’t know.
I miss him. Forever and twenty days. Deeply, darkly romantic
He held my soul and called me a slut
Which him? There were plenty of hims. All I can say is I miss him.
There’s plenty I would talk about if someone wanted to listen
Who has time to listen?
I was crazy. I am crazy. I don’t sleep. i don’t even breathe when I get like this.
But it’s Christmas and they’ll be here tomorrow.
So what is crazy, anyway?
Here’s what I think:
Crazy is having a heart.
Crazy is wanting a friend.
Crazy is sharing a smile.
Crazy is giving a journal, a green one with a hand on the front.
Crazy is saying I love you to a relative stranger in a room full of people.
I wonder who noticed that. Goodness knows the one who would have wanted it didn’t notice.
That’s why he said it to me, it was a joke that she didn’t get.
I know that’s why he left without saying goodbye. But his wife was lovely.
And what about those cards? I saw some in the store
Was that angel on a pogo stick or was that a knife between her legs?
But a reality check:
I had to carry everything with me, all the time.
My roommate mutiliated my toothbrush: I caught on and started carrying it with me in my jacket pocket.
The schizophrenic one was just scary.
I have a headache. A nearly twelve hour headache. It was a bad day.
We invite people over but I think they’re afraid of me.
I’d be afraid of me if I weren’t me.
If you read this, don’t worry, I’m in good hands.
I had a bad day and I’m feeling reminiscent, but I will sleep tonight.
J is taking good care of me and my therapist says I’m fine.