On Depression

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It’s an illness, don’t you know?

You need to see a doctor.

You need medicine to get better/well.

Those loud voices,

Those loud thoughts.

That overwhelming feeling

When you walk down the path.

Not knowing what to do next,

Forgetting what you set out to do.

Having to take a moment to think,

Going faster and faster

Until you are spinning.

Being scared of silence.

Of the dark, of the dreams that may come.

Thinking and believing,

Close to knowing, that you are going

Crazy

And not being able to help yourself

Feeling sad and tired.

Scared and confused.

Thinking too much to yourself

Because you want to be alone

Not knowing what will happen next

And only seeing a baby or death as an answer.

It’s a sickness, don’t y’know?

Being able to smile to people, you’re a pro at hiding it (sometimes).

“How are you?”

“Oh, fine and you?”

But inside you know you are falling apart into unknown places.

Dizzy and confused,

Unable to do simple things or complex.

You want to sleep but can’t get through the night.

When will it end?

Why did it begin?

It’s a disease, don’t y’know?

When you grind your teeth at night or so she says,

But then you’ve started locking your mouth tight during the day.

When you walk always tight with your bag and clinch your hands into a fist.

What are you getting ready to fight?

And then who are you to tell her that she must fall and have faith when you can hardly to it yourself?

Don’t make yourself better just because you are sicker than she is.

And when you’ve tried almost everything and the illness, sickness, disease, virus comes back.

Those sad, horrible feelings.

The inability to do anything and the ability to do everything.

When it comes to the point where you can’t lie anymore and your illness shows through and people see it, but don’t know what to do with you or for you.

It’s a sickness, don’t y’know?

When cigarettes are the only thing that does something, that you don’t quite know, but keep doing it anyway.

There’s frustration and hatred, strength and weakness at any FUCKING moment!

You go in fucking waves.

When things could be great for you and then three days, three hours, three minutes, three seconds later you are sick (again).

And you just want to scream and yell and run around naked then collapse and have a man pick you up and carry you home.

It’s the illness, don’t y’know?

And things just flow.

And you want to shower and smell good, but then you can’t, you’re too tired.

But it’s a disease don’t y’know?

And when your favorite song comes on and it’s a slow, sad, melodious melancholy song but with a glimpse of hope because of the harp that’s playing in the background.

But it’s sometimes hard to hear that.

And when you don’t want to go out, but you know you have to.

And grades don’t matter to you, because, it’s a sickness, don’t y’know?

When you’re happy that you can shit regularly because that didn’t happen before.

When you don’t want people to see you like this.

When you find yourself living in your own shadow.

And your head itches even though you just washed it.

When you know it’s the nerves.

When you’re sick, don’t know you’re anxious and afraid, can’t do anything but want to do everything.

You just want to be normal, be the way you were before you got sick, diseased, ill.

When your stomach hurts and sometimes it’s hard to breathe.

When your bag is too heavy and taking each step is hard enough.

When you can concentrate and get lost in your own thoughts.

When you rather be anywhere than there, but can’t escape.

When your dreams are so scary and someone is always in pain/trouble or something dies.

When you dream you and your mother are possessed by demons, your front tooth is chipping away and you look ugly, when a pigeon kills a peacock, and when you see your mother bang it on its head with a rock so it can be put out of it’s misery and it’s mate doesn’t know what just happened, or what will happen to her life now. She’s lost and feels bad for her.

When tears get stuck in your eyes and tissues aren’t enough.

When you go on about your day.

It’s the sickness, you know?

(c) Marlena Elmore

April 2005

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.