I think I’m jealous of the sun.
All it has to do is spread the multicolored ribbons it has as arms
and settle over the horizon
to fill each individual who steals a glimpse in its direction
with an uncontrolled,
self-actualizing
knowledge of how small,
yet how incredibly crucial,
their existence is
to the universe.

Sometimes I whisper the words, “Are you okay?” into the empty air I breathe just to hear what it would be like to feel someone care, but who am I to change the convention of the polite and smiling reply of, “I’m good. How are you?” Would anyone really know how to react if I actually said that it depends on the day you ask me?

The truth is,
today
I’m not okay.

I don’t know what I will get each time the… (I would say the sunlight opens my eyelids, but let’s be real here; I don’t really sleep anymore.)… I know why this happened to me the first time, but now? Maybe it’s because I learned how to feel again. I guess depression doesn’t really need a reason, though, does it? At the very least there is a big difference between now and seven years ago.

This time, I know my worth. This time, I’m fighting back, instead of drowning in it. This time, I am strong. And this time… I don’t want to die.

This time, I am actually reaching out for a hand to silently hold mine just to comfort me for even a minute. The only problem is everyone else has a life too. People love to say, “I’m here for you,” and, "I’m praying for you,” but they are too busy to actually to that.

Every day I get up just before the crack of dawn to lace my running shoes and pump my legs long enough to replace the stale state of my lungs to something fresh and clean. It’s the one thing I feel I have control over in my life.  It’s my chance to get out and feel like I’m a part of the world before the rest of the world wakes up and reminds me that I’m just a tiny piece of it.

For most of my life, I’ve felt like I am the missing piece to a puzzle that I can’t find. I’ve always felt different in a way I don’t know how to put into words. It’s just a sense of myself I don’t feel I need to explain. Not long ago, that feeling started to go away, but I think God may have misplaced me when he tried to fit my pieces together.

There’s a silver castle on my way to freedom, but I can never quite reach it, and there’s a silence that swallows me whole each time I steal a glance in its direction. Today, I am not okay. Tonight, I just pray that the next time my feet step out of bed and onto the soft carpet of the home I finally found for myself, I will feel a little bit better.

I suppose that’s all I can ask for at this point.

There’s a note
hidden in the melodies
that sing to me as I drive.
It is faint,
but I hear it
louder than my morning alarm.
I can almost feel God’s embrace
wrapping me until I’m warm again.

A smile envelops my mandible
as weary laugh escapes my teeth.
This is what they call clarity.

Sometimes,
you don't need words
or phrases
or prayers.

Sometimes,
you just need
someone to sit with you silently,
stripped of cliches,
and just be there.