Functional Depressive

How are you?

I Inhale.

And I’m quickly reminded that this was first real breath I’ve taken all day

How long have I been holding it?

Come to think of it, I can’t even breathe properly

The weight on my chest is society’s expectations

Covering the hole of society’s failures

Failure to see me hurting

Failure to create a safe world for everyone to coexist

Blink.

Blink and I realize how little sleep I’ve gotten

Lying awake at night

I will myself to sleep

But I continue to be haunted by my demons

How can you be depressed when you have so much to be grateful for?

Why are you depressed?

What if I told you every question doesn’t have an answer?

You may as well ask…where the line is between art and not art?

Where the line is between sharing and being a burden to others?

Imagine being reduced to a burden

I try not to think of that as I focus on self-acceptance in a society that capitalizes on self-improvement

As I go to therapy to correct this burden I inherited because those before me refused to take that responsibility

You are what you eat

And all I’ve been eating is hurt since before I can remember

What is it that people love to say?

Practice self-care

Yes. Self-care, I know her

She is sick of me

Even she can see through the facade of me trying and failing at giving her time

It’s hard to give to even her.

I have nothing left to give.

Depression has taken all of me and left just enough for only me to notice I haven’t been myself

So I isolate in an already isolated world

And helplessly watch as close faces fade

Sometimes healing looks like destruction

I think back through my options

How you warn me not to upset you with my hurt

Last time “not too good” was met with “you’ll be alright”

“Could be better” was greeted with “you got this”

“I’m tired” was dismissed with “keep going”

I’m drowning in my cries for help

Consistently thrown a life jacket of false encouragements and toxic positivity’s

My depression is not about your comfortability

You can’t think it away, believe me I tried

Allowing time to pass doesn’t help either

The pain just fades, only to reappear in the most inconvenient way

For now, I stick with the safest answer

The pre-formulated reply used before our brains even register what our mouths are saying

Betrayed by our lips, abandoning our truths

Today is a good day to be seen

Today is a good day to be seen

Every day is not a good day

And that’s okay

I Exhale anyways and reply…

“I’m good”