When exactly did I learn
that life was no cartoon?
The paradigm of life wasn’t just one traumatic incidence
because there wasn’t a scene to pause when I rewind
because (I might as well call myself
a careless traveller here)
because I don’t remember how exactly it has been
because depression
is a shape shifter
and anxiety is the cousin depression felt obligated
to invite at the party which I don’t want to be at.
‘Why don’t you try having fun?’
Do you not see that it’s not much fun having fun
when you don’t want to have fun?
Stop measuring pain with what eyes can see.
Depression is not a mood
and anxiety? It’s not the butterflies you get
in your stomach when you’re on stage.
It’s like every unspoken thought being pulled out of your ear
and being replaced with merciless fear
when there isn’t much space for happy.
It’s like the fingernails of the biggest clown of the smallest circus
being forced through your temples
and all you can do is stare at the dark walls
tightly hugging your fragile skeleton
and it leaves you wondering.
It leaves you wondering if you grew up painting them.

I cannot even look at the universe and shout
‘what is going on?!’
because I was told that sound cannot travel in space.
Or is the universe just playing games
because I can hear it shouting at me
at the top of its voice
I. Do. Not. Understand!
But neither do I.

How do I make myself understand
this feeling ?
This feeling of a spoon held in strong arms with loose wrists?
That I don’t need an ocean full of love
to bring flowers and plant them
in every windowsill of the house
that stands still when no feeling
gets out of it or goes into it?
How do I understand
When my body itself says
Error 404, Error 404, Error 404.