I am the layer of ice over the lake that keeps me amphibious.

I am the frown that I can feel on my face.

I am the gnawing sadness inside the space between my brain and my skull.

 

I am my depression.

 

But I am also the pen that liberates me.

I am the ink that stains my hands and reminds me of what I am

and where I want

no

need to go.

I am the printed t-shirts I wear

the stories I love

the tattoos on my skin

the chairs I sit in

the places I inhabit

the food I cook

the people I love

the people that love me.

 

So even though I am my depression,

I am my anxiety,

I am the self-imposed prison that keeps me unhappy,

I am also the quotations I recall to remind myself to keep looking towards the light.

I am the real version of myself that I know exists inside.
I am the darkness that replaces the light

but

I am also the stars and moon.

 

If you cut tiny holes into a piece of black cloth and

held it hard over the sun,

that would describe my depression.

And while my depression is who I am,

 

it is not all I will ever be.