i just want to close my eyes sometimes. you know that, right? and… my psychiatrist says he thinks i have depression, and i don’t know if that’s true or not right now. but sometimes, i do wonder about it.
i just want to cry sometimes. because i am here. because i am not here. because i don’t want to be here. because the people are too loud. and because my hands are shaking, and goddamn it, i don’t have time to be like this. i was supposed to be recovering.
but what does that even mean? because honestly, i am so good at being sick. but i’m not much for healing. for doing anything other than slapping dollar-store bandaids on wounds no one’s ever noticed, and biting my tongue. go on. i’m fine. i promise i’m ok.
because life is tough. and because this isn’t what the movies make it out to be. it’s slow. and it’s hard. and sometimes, it’s just forcing myself to take one more step forward despite the screaming heaviness on my shoulders. and sometimes, i spend whole weeks running backwards. and sometimes, i get home from school and just fall apart on the kitchen floor, because i still can’t believe it. that for the first time in my life, if you asked, i could actually tell you what i’m living for.
Ok, so a couple notes about this poem.
- In regards to what I said about depression–right now, that’s extremely tentative, so please don’t take that too seriously. My psychiatrist thinks I potentially have dysthymia or persistent depressive disorder (essentially, low-level chronic depression) but honestly, right now, no one is sure.
- When I talk about “closing my eyes” in this poem, I’m not referring to suicide–more just… giving up trying to get better, something that’s been on my mind a lot.
I know poetry isn’t always the clearest medium, so I just wanted to make sure I was communicating that. 😉