There is a song that I sing tonight.
Every night...

A song made out
of the sighs in my breaths.

Words heavy and laden
from the weight of my thoughts.

A tune forlorn - from the wrenching
of the heart.

A song that I’ve taken to.
A song entitled “Melancholy”.

.

Finally trying doors.
      Looking for spaces that would have me.
        Looking for spaces that’d fit.

Most knobs...
                       Cold.

   They haven’t been touched in a while.
I’ve never bothered to try them.

     They’d probably would open up to empty spaces.

How fitting...
     An empty space for an empty soul.

I have depression.

I suspect I’ve had it for a long time.
It’s only recently I accepted it.

Having this,
is like have an insufferable house guest that just wouldn’t leave.
He was never invited.
I don’t even know why he’s even here.

He’s very persuasive.
He tells me things and shows me what I perceive to be my true value.
I know he likes it here and I’ve had him for so long that I have found strange comfort having him around.

At times, he may slip away without
me even knowing.
But at times, he’d show up.
He’d make a grand entrance.
He’d fuss.

But I’d still wouldn’t realise.

These days,
people know I’m not alone.
People know of him.
People read and watch videos of him.
I applaud them for trying to understand him.
And our relationship.

But it saddens me and it fuels him when the aids don’t do him any justice.
They just allow people to think they know better.
They think they’ve been educated and can start to administer help.
They assume that you’re not heeding their advice.
They think you don’t even try.

But again I applaud them...
For trying so very hard.

This is me and I have a house guest that I’m sincerely trying to manage.



I have depression.

I haven’t been honest.

I haven’t been for many years.

Like a skill out of practice,
I don’t know how to.

Especially to myself.

.