depression · Mental Illness · writing

I Am Not Depressed.

Mother, I am not depressed.
I might be crying my eyes out on
the bathroom floor, begging for
My lungs to function properly
I might be seeing ghosts next to
Your sweet soft face telling me
Maybe you never even loved me
I might go through battles I’m destined to lose daily
But mother, I am not depressed
After all, i forgot to post a pretty picture
With a depressing caption on Instagram today
I am not depressed.
After all, I never liked Lana Del Rey that much
And I hardly ever wear stylish Nirvana tees
That match my $200 pair of Doc Martens.
I am not depressed.
After all, i failed to create a “hardcore” persona on Tumblr
And I couldn’t afford cigarette boxes
and artfully running mascara
For the sake of the camera and the hashtags
I am not depressed.
After all, no pretty blue-eyed boy
Came to rescue me from my thoughts
And I never exchanged “okay”s with him
Nor did I overdose on pills because
My boyfriend broke up with me,
I am not depressed, mother
Because I don’t think depression
Can be paraphrased as
The poetic darkness that the beings
Of the internet wont terminate to possess
I am not depressed
I don’t write about ashes, guns,
Smoke, lipstick stains and dust

Mother, I can no longer be depressed
Today.

(Poetry is beautiful as it is dark if it’s done right but nothing about depression comes close to being remotely beautiful. Or romantic.)

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2 thoughts on “I Am Not Depressed.

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