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I wish you didn’t love me.
I wish I could scream until you understood every little thought that roamed my head.
I wish it were easier to let you in.
You think you know me, yet I feel we are still strangers.
Remembering hurts sometimes.
Trying to figure out if you’re remembering or imagining hurts sometimes.
Feeling shattered on the inside and not being able to piece it back together hurts sometimes.
Not knowing what to say hurts sometimes.
Feeling like you’d cause more pain speaking hurts sometimes.
Feeling so lost because you don’t know what you need, when people ask you what you need to get better ******* hurts sometimes.

Most times it’s more than just sometimes.
  Jan 2020 Elizabeth Christian
Dear Depression,
I see you. We all see you. You're not very avoidable. Those slivers of light you try to enamor us with. How death seems so delicate when we talk of flowers and restful slumber- for all eternity. What the lights do not show; a grotesque, scaled abomination with a gluttonous appetite for happiness and life. I can't let you gnaw on anymore souls to leave nothing, but sunken eyes and bones. They do not belong to you nor were they yours to take. You're not welcome in the mind's of my friend's and family. Life is welcome in their heart's where joy can still be found. Don't find yourself slithering down our throat's anymore, in the empty stomachs or scars we have. The thoughts we think when you entice us are dangerous. You stole her. You stole him. You stole me. I can't recognize the stoic, numbed faces I gaze upon. You undo any progress ever done.

It's been so long since, I've heard them laugh or flashed a smile I meant. Still, your might looms over as you admire the damage you've caused. Next, feeling the audacity to sneer when we weep. Depression, you're a monster who causes nothing, but suffering. Those tears are not your's to season hopelessness with. You make the covers seem like the most comfortable coffin, you make our skin look as if we've fought thousands of wars. The sun an inconvenience with the days in reverse. We've tried to compromise, you are no friend. Just a foe.
Depression, there are so many things I want to do to you. You break my heart when all your captors don't believe they are worthy of love, but they are the ones I love most. I will break you like, you've broken us. My bare hands would reach into your chest, ripping the lungs out; stomp on them to preventing future sufferers. I would crush your heart in the palms of my hand's- praying for the sickness and terror to end. These innocent people you've robbed of life, love, happiness, opportunity and a soul. Will have their revenge. Your blood covers our skin and we bathe in the warmth of redemption as our thought's belong to us once more. We let the pain held inside escape our sutured lips, begging your soul to ascend back into the abyss never to return. Your bones are mine to assemble a castle for the broken to heal. Your skull resembles a crown honoring those who had given into the temptations of surrendering. We honor them.
Lost in thought, time has frozen.
Words are spoken which are heard, but not processed.
Eyes so focused on one thing everything else becomes a blur.
My eyes are watering, did I forget to blink? or are my emotions exposing themselves because I’ve been so numb I didn’t feel the need to talk about it myself
It is so hard to want to get better, when your mind is telling you “this can be a good thing”.
It’s so hard to want love yourself when you can’t find a single part of you worth loving.
I’m supposed to be getting better.
you know that feeling of emptiness that has you subconsciously staring at walls for hours?
Or the feeling of  anger and confusion built up in your body that is only expressed through a few tears and a crooked smile?

Me too.
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