Antidepressants take you on a journey.
It’s like going up the emotional roller coaster,
but never dropping to rock bottom.
I’ve been on a plateau for a while now,
but the bad nights still come and go.
There is one thing they can’t fix;
loneliness.
People always leave for one reason or another.
Maybe I’m too loud, maybe I’m too gay.
Maybe I’m like the plague; people have to disappear
so that they can get rid of me.
Maybe I’m a virus that people can’t find a cure to.
I’m lost without a compass.
They say that what I’m looking for will come to me,
but who wants to come to the lonely island
for the person that drowns in self-pity?