They call him depression

· A collection of poems about depression ·

April 7, 2017 0 Comments

Today is World Health Day. If you had no idea, do not worry, as this information is quite new to me as well. Every year the World Health Organization has a different theme or area of concern to focus on. The focus for 2017 is depression – that tabooed subject that is pushed under the rug, with everyone having differing ideas about what it is and how to handle it.

So, I have decided to share a few pages from my diary and bare a teeny-weeny bit of my insides to you. You, who somehow stumbled upon my rambulations.

An ode to depression, that one girl who helped me, to the humans who know someone who has struggled with it, and to my dears that suffer with it.

 

HOLD ME

They ask me how I am doing.

I say, ‘Not okay.’

Awkwardness arises. They shuffle their feet, I twiddle my thumbs.

You learn to say ‘I’m doing fine. Everything is great.’

It’s easier that way.

You learn to paint on endless facades, give that occasional smile or once-in-a- while laugh, to fade into the background, but, inside, you’re a mess.

Slowly falling deeper into the abyss.

You don’t realise you are drowning until you’re ten feet under.

It becomes harder and harder to put on those facades, and you find it easier to stay beneath your sheets that still offer no comfort.

Your fists become accustomed to the bathroom tiles, your head to the bedroom walls.

Completely trapped inside your head of crashing waves, of endless doubts and worthlessness.

Closed doors, shut blinds -easier to tell your friends you’re sick with some cold, than the truth.

No rash nor scar baring to the world that you are sick.

You must carry around your invisible demons shackled to your leg.

A worried mother sends you off to doctors’ offices and psychologists.

Pills shoved down your throat, white walls, fake smiles and the neurotic sound of a clinical clock become your companion.

I slowly push people away. Not wanting anyone around but simultaneously wanting someone to be there,

To come down the rabbit hole, peer into the darkness and see what is there.

Lay next to me as I struggle to breathe

Lay next to me as I lay in the foetal position for the fourth day in a row

Lay next to me as I wrestle with the endless noise

Lay next to me as I lie in the fate of some restless creature.

Lay next to me while I’m a puppet to the darkness.

I’m beaten and bruised, and feel like an empty shallow corpse of nothingness.

So please lay next to me.

 

UNNATURAL

When someone is drowning

They will either eventually come up for air

Or die.

For us the drowning never ends.

 

END

Sometimes I just want to breathe.

So that thought comes creeping in.

HANDS

Just As you have no place in stopping the beating of someone’s heart,

You have no right in stopping yours.

Your hands can do beautiful things

And also beastly things.

The taking of one one’s life is the most horrid of them all.

Only handless things should be involved in such matters.

WRITTEN FOR YOU

I wish beautiful words would spill from my pen.

Words that make you stop and stare.

Stare in awe at these wonders.

Words that make you shed your layers

Sit in the nude, comfortable in your own skin.

Words of hope.

Ink from my pen to this page marking down history.

I wish my pen could do all that.

To capture even a glimpse of you on this page. To internalise you forever in between these pages, as everyone deserves one person like you in their life.

Even if that friend is through the splotches of ink on a page.

I wish my words could do all that.

As smiling is now an involuntary action, because of you.

 

ABSTRACT

It’s rather a simple concept.

If an artist paints a painting with darkness and hate, the viewer will feel hate and darkness.

If an artist paints a painting with love and care, that is how the viewer will see it.

Be careful how you paint yourself.

THE CYCLE

You are slowly becoming accustomed with yourself again.

Your shackles are loosened and you’re breathing once more.

Then, out of nowhere, he slides his hands around your neck and you are his prisoner again.

 

A PROMISE

I promise you will learn to walk again.

He will just become part of you. Following you as you scour the earth.

Just remember to share your joys and success with him

It makes him go quiet for a little while.

 

 

 

 

 

elssie

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