She doesn’t look sick…..
She isn’t sick.
But a black hole is eating her from the inside out.
The devour has no real description
It defies the usual ones, it has a wider mouth, deeper jaw, longer bite
The thing of it is .. the shame .. that’s the worst part
The little voice which sometimes sounds like your mother and sometimes sounds like every voice that ever said; What’s wrong with you? Why can’t you snap out of it?
Sometimes … a day will be piercingly beautiful … like the most beautiful song you ever heard and every sense will be electrified
And still you will long to fall on the ground sobbing
If they saw you they would ask; What’s wrong? It’s a beautiful day! Why can’t you appreciate life! Are you ungrateful?
And you would nod your head and admit; Yes I must be ungrateful. How else can you explain it?
For those who believe in God, you feel stricken, maybe you feel God is punishing you for some transgression with the black dog who never leaves your side
If he does leave then you know he will return and it is just a false waiting game, a pose of chess pieces with their fates already inscribed
They talk about other things that matter and feel empathy, sympathy
But when someone has a mental disease they are considered weak, inferior, selfish, inadequate
Wherever you go – there you are
Sometimes you wonder why it is you can write so much in November and nothing through July.
As if a giant claw had possessed your feelings and sank its nails deep into your marrow
When you date people you feel as if you should come with a disclaimer;
I may look pretty, I may have qualifications and a clean house, but beneath this surface please note … I am subject to changing and crying when the sun shines for no discernible reason
Sometimes in the middle of a party you want to run away from the crowd and bury your face in the grass out in the forest – feeling more alone than if you were locked underground in a prison cell
Often there is absolutely no way of describing this so you simply do not and that sets you apart as someone who carries a dark feeling without a voice
Occasionally someone will remark on the sadness in your eyes and you will smile as hard as you can to dispel it because it feels like a giant stain that everyone could see
If they cared to
Many times in subtle ways people will show you that they think you are weaker than them in the little methods of selection and choice
Family will condemn you and sharpen the quill when you are down because it is easier to kill a deer when it has fallen
You try to be grateful and you are, but it never seems so in the midst of sadness because sadness will devour any gratitude whole
And lovers will tell you … you’re not even happy to be with me are you? And you want to say, oh yes I am! But the sadness will envelop your voice and they will leave you … disappointed
There isn’t a week of mental illness, there isn’t a day for depression. There are years upon years upon years
And little adverts on TV about “If your current anti-depressant isn’t working considering taking (and paying) for another one to boost it!” Just fill you with impotent rage.
Often, you feel you are not worthy simply because you are depressed, it is a stigma that invades every aspect of your being, you believe you are not worth the same as others because of the darkness you carry around on your back
In the early morning when you lie in bed and the first rays of sun come through your window, you may forget who you are, and decide you are not going to be labeled or given a description, you are going to be
free
and that may last a while until the next time you feel like blowing your brains out
and then it’s the greatest betrayal you ever felt and it seems as if you do it to yourself
like a hand inside a black velvet glove
stroking dreams until they grow cold
TheFeatheredSleep 