I am terrified of becoming depressed
I grew up around many forms of this illness, crowding my friends and family like clouds in a hurricane, and they came in waves,
Tearing down the walls of the ones I loved
I feared for them
I feared for their hearts to stop beating, for their stomachs to start folding, and for them to stop smiling
They always told me the creases by their eyes were not caused from happiness, or the sun
They told me it was caused by the many nights of pillows being thrown down drains of emptiness, because what was the point of sleeping when your own thoughts are cornering you, until they are no longer yours to have?
They told me that they wrote poetry and I said I do too
They looked concerned, saying "depression is not artsy, so don't think you should want this disease,
because it will tear you limb from limb, until all thats left is your heart
And your heart is beating like it's going to explode, but you dont care because you feel like you are already dead
So my friend
Stay happy"
But what they dont know is that I've been wishing the same for them