I’m still learning how to pick myself up again.

I’m a million piece puzzle that no one wants to solve. 

I’m still learning how to keep you warm without using up my insides like firewood. I’m trying my hardest to take up the smallest amount of space. My shoulders will concave in. Like an avalanche of anxiety. I’m still learning how to not hate myself.I can’t look myself in the eye. The reflection in the mirror is just a photo I want to burn I want to burn it all down to ashes. I’ll inhale every ounce of smoke until my lungs bleed black. I’m still learning how to not want to kill myself. I still see my wrists as flashing exit signs. An escape from a show I never wanted to be a part of. Because my depression tore through like hurricane Katrina I was New Orleans and it swept through me with its 174 miles per hour wind. But I couldn’t take shelter in a super dome.Instead I let the wind come through ripping me bit by bit. My depression came in like a flood. And I’m still learning how to float. How to keep my head above waterto keep me from drowning. I feel like I’m drowning. My lungs are full of water and I’m suffocating. My depression came through like the tornado that tore Joplin Missouri apart. Taking the photographs on the mantle and making them nothing. Memories and passions lost in a whirlwind of pain and a loss. My depression shook me like the earthquake that rattled nepal. Praying to my god to stop the punishment. Thousands of years of history gone, in a pile of dust and debris.There’s no refugee campBut There’s medication! So many medication. In fact I’ve been on more than half of the U.s top anti-depressants and most of them made me want to scoop out my insides. There’s Prozac, Effexor, Trazadone, Celexa, Viibryd, Zoloft, Lexapro, and of course Cymbalta can help. I’ve written so many poems about depression but they all sound the same. It’s just smeared colors on a thinly stretched canvas. Someone should take it down an burn it one of these days. Depression is more than feeling sad No, it’s sleeping for twelve hours but feeling exhausted It’s wanting to jump into traffic Having no motivation, Loosing your interests,Hating yourself,  More mental illnesses, Hating yourself, Feeling like a hurricane and a tornado and an earthquake all at once.It’s never feeling good enoughI want to feel good enough. The skinny girl pretending to have anxiety can have my mental ilnesses. It's in pieces anywaysAnd I’m learning how to fit them all together again. I’m not asking for anyone to put me back togetherI’m just asking for help to keep me from falling apart. Please don’t worry about picking me up again. keep your dustpans and your brooms locked up tight. I can wait for the wind to blow me back together or tear me apart.