I’m so sorry, so please just go away

I said sorry, so please go away.

You’re only a figment of my imagination-

A cruel, crude copy of someone more than 2000 miles away;

But you know too well how to guilt trip me.

Over and over again,

You get into the deepest of my wounds

To remind what happened that day with you.

I did nothing wrong, and the same with you-

(I mean, the real you,)

But I’m having to suffer over and over again at the

Imaginary awkwardness, pain, embarrassment, lonliness that I felt in my head

This helps me and my life zero percent.

I said I’m so sorry. Please accept that and go away.

Six little pills

Six little pills a day

Keep the bad thoughts away

And supposedly make me a normal human again.

One orange and blue two-toned capsule to make me happy-

(When I should be.)

One itsy bitsy blue one to make me more active-

(When I should be.)

A white and three round pink ones to make me mellow, but not too mellow-

Mellow enough to forget that there ever was a choice besides life.

Six little pills a day

That remind me that life is just a chemical reaction

And free will? Just another dream.

Let go of those who are already gone

Let go of those who are already gone. Because-

Loneliness is felt most deeply in absence.

From a depression, or a marking of what used to be.

Comparison of one state to another from another time and space.

What can be more cruel?

Berating oneself for not being the best version of oneself during the worst possible moment.

Enough

It took me a long time, but I think I might know now.

(Though, knowing isn’t the same as doing.)

Before, I didn’t feel enough for this world. But the truth was, the world just wasn’t enough to take me in.

Me, with the jagged edges. Me, who couldn’t fit into a cookie cutter shape.

I lived merely to fit into something instead of:

Creating, finding joy, appreciating, feeling good about how things were when they were, being happy, going with my gut, taking risks…

Living.

My blank canvas. So many things I could have painted instead of painting over my flaws.

Depression poems #42

To the friends I lost, after turning…

It’s been months since we last spoke, and I miss you.

But I can’t see us together.

I don’t know what to say to you,

And don’t know how to respond to what you tell me.

What sort of a sick Tower have we built?

Me then, and you then- we couldn’t have been happier.

But me now, and you then- pure discordance.

On different planes, in different dimensions,

We no longer can see eye to eye, or each other.

No, you, have lost sight of me-

In the thick of the illness,

And I got lost to you.

I got lost.

I’m still lost.