It was a dreary day,
not different than normal.
The sky was gray,
the air was damp.
My heart raced as I drove over the mountain.
I told myself over and over,
I am here to get better.
I will try to get better.
The doctor came in,
I started to cry.
I can’t let this out,
I will keep it inside.
As the time past,
that soon was a lie.
She asked me, “honey, do you have hope?”
I said “well, ma'am, I truly try.
I can see a better future,
But sometimes want to die.”
“Let’s try to fight these feelings,” she said.
“Would you try an SSRI?
We can face this as a team, you and I.”
I dropped my head,
I wiped my eyes,
I said “let’s give it a chance,
it cant hurt to try.”
Here I am.
6 months gone by.
I still feel alone,
but I don’t want to die.
I’m starting to see the beauty in things.
I’m starting to feel again.
Is this a chemical warfare,
that keeps me from feeling low?
Or is this a head trick,
a sugar pill,
a modern placebo?
Whatever it is, I am happy.
For a minute,
for a second,
for a moment,
I am happy.
I have hope.
