I have learned that solitude is a company all by itself.
My emptiness has grown to fill rooms
The sadness on the back of my tongue leaves an aftertaste like a bitter lover.
The day i learned my depression takes up more room than me,
We became friendly.
With a mental illness bigger than the space you carry it in
You learn a lot about how to shrink yourself into something more convenient,
As if your mere existence speaks volumes too many.
Solitude becomes more familiar the longer you spend with it.
And that Solitude has become as familiar as the warm lover on the other side of your bed.
Unzip your skin and step out
to make more room for the anxiety to fit comfortably.
youll leave a bag of skin and bones and misery on the floor.
my mental illness doesnt feel like a hovering shadow,
it feels more like an extra piece of my brain that the doctors overlooked.
tell me again that im just tired,
im just lazy,
im just unmotivated.
id try to draw you a map of my mind but lately its been just static.
maybe it isnt the solitude ive grown used to,
maybe its my elephant in the room,
maybe its the never ending presence of my mental illness in the room,
my overwhelming need to no longer exist in the room.