Describing My Depression

p.p1 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px 'Helvetica Neue'}
p.p2 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica}
p.p3 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px}
span.Apple-tab-span {white-space:pre}

Have you ever woken up with a pounding headache, and just wanted to stay in bed? But not just stay in bed, stay away from everything else going on that day and just isolate yourself from society. That is every morning with depression. I wake up every dAy just hoping it's the end of the pain and suffering I have brought upon myself. Once I realize that lying on my bed for 36 hours isn't the healthiest or smartest way to cope, I get up and make a cup of coffee. The coffee, when it's just brewed, is the colour of my feelings. It's just as desirable as living outside of my little bubble I call home. As I take the first sip of my creamy coffee, the pills people say help go down as well.  

 

There are days with depression where all you want to do is talk to the one person who is busy living their life. Seeing everybody posting their events and joy on snap chat or Instagram, realizing how unimportant you are because they didn't even bother to ask you. The feeling of being alone is not only what you crave, it's also what grows the black hole inside you that sucks up energy. Fear is what brings you to ask someone to listen, or even just talk with you. When your thoughts are as jumbled as mine, talking about the weather is pointless because I can be almost positive that I won't really be listening, just nodding and shaking my head trying so hard to get out of the conversation. 

 

Have you ever burnt something that is one of the most simple things to heat up, such as water, and you just break down from frustration? I sure know I have. I've cried over things that in reality aren't a big deal, but because I have so much inside I just break. I see the world in color, but I also see the world in a way that is distorted, just like my body image. Not eating is easy when you've done it your entire life. What it's even like to eat normally or healthy I have never known. I don't ever expect to know. 

 

The inability to get up and brush my teeth can be overwhelmingly strong. I tend to do it anyway because of depressions great friend, anxiety. I blame the anxiety for me getting out of bed and trying to exist in society. You wouldn't understand the battles inside my head. The depression tells me that I'm worthless and no one would care if I missed school, or just stopped going completely. Anxiety chimes in and tells me if I don't go to school I'll never amount to anything in life and I'll just be a lame butt who does absolutely nothing. Let's not forget the eating disorder telling me that I am overweight and I can't eat, with ptsd chilling out and making everything significantly more difficult to live.

 

I have a superpower, I can feel everything and nothing at the exact same time. How do I do that you ask? Well, my friend, depression takes the lead and the rest just follow. It feels like I am stuck in a room of which is pitch black, shaped like nothing you've ever seen, with the floor carpeted in some spots, tiled in others and different levels all at once. This room also changes shape once you've slept, which is either too much or none at all. There will be short periods of time in which a dim light comes on, but it fades. Depression consists of false hope, believing one thing, but that one thing never existed and you look like a blabbering idiot trying to explain it to those around you. 

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Guide that inspired this poem: 

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741