Grey days and ash on my tongue.
Is this what depression tastes like?
I thought it would be more sad,
but I guess that's the apathy talking.
Hey, I'm not about to self-diagnose.
It's probably nothing clinical, right?
What do I know?
I'm not a doctor, or psychologist, or psychiatrist.
It's probably perfectly normal to feel like
the colors of the world are muted and
everything tastes burnt and
nothing is fulfilling anymore and
there's only emptiness five years from now.
Because it can't be my mental health, right?
No history of mental illness in the family,
no environmental stress,
and those are the two main elements, yeah?
It's probably just teen angst,
wild hormones,
fluxing identity crises one after another.
To say this numbness,
this supreme lack of motivation,
is an illness that needs help is just
seeking attention, yearning for direction,
but hey, everything's just fine, right?
I'm fine.
Perfectly fine.
Fine.
Fine.
Fine.
Just need to get out more.
What does it matter that everything is grey and all I can taste is ash?

h.f.m.