i scroll through
the symptoms;
the signs once more
finally screen-shotting them
only so i do not have to keep
looking and re-looking
them up

i rummage through the very
personal box of writings
hidden under my bed
i find the paper
with the heading of:
How I See Me, How I Am
following the undepthed title
is a list of short, spiked written words,
words that, all though so very short, mean so much
and ache even worse

down to the bottom of the list my finger skims
my eyes scattered throughout the words
and my tears scarring the paper
finally at the the bottom
i grab the pen and finish the list
with one simple word

depressed

(a.b)