So I'm depressed.
About something wonderful.
I'm such a weird person.
It's a certain kind of darkness, a fog, more like. It floats around this bitter pain. It's like a hot needle, pricking repeatedly at this single spot, from which all my pain seems to stem. It brings uncertainties, questions, fears. When I wonder, for wonder I must, who and what I really am...something tells me that this pain is the essence of my being. It defines me, makes those cracks in my smiles that no one sees. How long until the ice shatters? Will I crack, as she did? It used to haunt me, that old fear, until I realized there were worse things. Worse things. What a horrible thing to realize!
Am I depressed?
Really?
In that way that brings shadows over every thought and a sharp, almost frantic fear to every moment in the dark?
The cold fingertips that brush, almost gently, and then grab with hidden strength the moment I slow down.
I'm not mad.
Not completely.
I overexaggerate. It comes with liking descriptive words...So don't worry, if you've taken the time to care. I'm alright.
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1 comment:
Oh deary, we all feel like this. Some of us more than others. You and I, we feel like this practically all the time, right? Yep, I understand very well.
But awesome poetic-ness. For lack of a better word at 8 in the AM. I love you and I'll ttys!
Megan
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