i'm not at home in my own home

Doctors and Clinical Psycologists diagnose Depression as:

A mood disorder causing a persistent feeling of sadness or lost of interest.

Sadness however is just a side affect of depression.

The real culprit is exhaustion.

Exhaustion
that the world hasn't changed.
Exhaustion
that your career hasn't changed.
Exhaustion
that you are poor.
Exhaustion
that your family or other people around you havent changed.
Exhaustion
because you cant seem to fit in with them.
Exhaustion
you cant seem to change your appearance.
Exhaustion
because you cannot change your personality.
Exhaustion
because you are recognized for a fake smile.

Or maybe

Exhaustion
because you are not recognized at all.


Exhaustion strikes because you are ultimately unable to change the mechanics in the grand machine that is your life.

You are stuck in a never ending loop.
A cycle of what you feel is a wasted life.

A life you feel you are powerless to change because you are too exhausted
to do so.

This is the true meaning of depression:

The desperate, crippling, aching, hurt you feel.
The heavy signs you release at the end of the day.
The anger that rips and shakes through your body.
The screams and sobs you let fly deep into your pillow so nobody hears.
The silent pool of tears that stream down your face at night.
The ones that cling and stain your cheek.

All the emotions that stop when you finally sleep, when everything stops and you are taken by the dark void of a dreamland, when the exhaustion finally ends.

With a life like ours
can you really blame the exhausted,
For wanting to sleep forever?

right now there are eleven empty containers of alcohol in my bedroom,
but it's fine, i'm fine.
i've been telling myself for more than a year
that i wasn't going to write anymore sad ****** poems about you,
but here we are.
most days i'm sure i don't miss you,
but then i listen to the wrong song,
and before i know it -
i'm screaming along to band of horses in the dark,
stalking your twitter favorites,
and somehow,
i've managed to get snot on my forehead.
yeah, nostalgia is an *******
but not all the memories sting.
there was that one time we went to the movies
and i slipped on some ice and fell flat on my ***.
i just sat there while you took a picture.
but i'm glad we could laugh about it.
i'm glad we were comfortable.
in my head, we still are.
in my head, we're oversized-goodwill-sweater comfortable.
we aren't as comfortable in real life
but i'm glad we still laugh.
this is the part where i don't bring up the time you told me
my laughter could cure your sadness,
because i'm pretty sure i already put that in another poem,
and it makes me really ******* sad.
did i ever tell you i used to play guitar and piano?
i loved them, but i never tried very hard.
i wanted to be good without having to practice.
i wanted to be good without having to practice.
i wanna meet the girl you write about
so i can ask her how she manages not to love you back.
because i've tried everything & i am so tired.
i forgot this wasn't supposed to be a sad poem.
i'm not good at happy anyway,
i never have been.
but in your absence i've learned a lot about softness.
so if i ever find myself back in your passenger seat,
i won't correct you when you sing the wrong lyrics,
i won't ask why when you take the long way home.
i won't ask you why you don't have your seatbelt on,
i'll just say a silent prayer
and watch for signs that you might be about to swerve.
right now there are eleven empty containers of alcohol in my bedroom,
and i didn't find you at the bottom of a single one.

- m.f.

If ever you need a shoulder to cry on,
I'm always here.
If ever you need someone to talk to,
I'm always here.
If ever you need to be proven how much you're loved,
I'm always here.
If ever you need to see a will to keep going,
I'm always here.

Love can be a battle
It can be painful
It can be hurtful
it can be rollercoaster
it can have good days
it can have bad days
Love is a battle
a long hurtful battle
If you don't get treated good
it can be a very painful
Love can be a battle

A million times a day
I sit on the bridge, over the bay
asking what if life is just some sick game?
then I hear a voice saying
"Why don't you stop playing?"