Depression

Makeup covers the few true signs of living: the blemishes and the bruises from my first to last steps. A black river finds its way down my once rosy red cheeks; stinging as the salt runs through the dry, lifeless terrain.

A prisoner of my own body, bracelets cuff the torn up skin my mother worked to create for nine months.
Necklaces often feel like the noose in my dreams, strangling me slowly while shining in the light of my bright future that seems so distant.
The $13 piece of sterling silver welded into earrings, is a magnet to the earth's core. A constant weight pulling me deeper, closer to the dirt.
A sweater is equivalent to a body bag as a sweatshirt is a coffin. I am trapped in sandpaper to hide my insecurities.

My hair, damaged and split, struggles to pull me up to higher ground. Strand by strand, the last of the blond holds on. I will not let the scissors snip.
Claustrophobic in my own body. My own skin threatens my biggest fear. Peeling away and no jingle from Band Aid Brand can convince me to patch up the wounds from my lowest nights.
Braced and whitened, lost and grown, my teeth lie the most. A smile to cover the ache within all cavities of my past. I pray a fairy can use the enamel to create a cast strong enough to hold me while I break.

Whispers turn to screams. A voice foreign to my body has complete control. Thoughts attacked me. My mind barricades me. I choke on my “im fines” and “it’s okays”. One minute out of my head and gratitude for the higher power overflows.
My heart takes on the job of beating me to death. The pulse reminds me of the clock ticking at 6am while I fight off the demons in my dreams.
A storm within my nerves persists with no sign of the dissipating stage. No warning for the flood in my lungs. I gasp for air… nothing. I’m drowning.
I begin to lose consciousness. I’m free. I have everything I ever wanted but I am yet to be satisfied. It’s dark and cold and I am alone.

Surrendered to the sea, I drift amid the clear water.
I work my way through the thickness of the womb. Not where I had assumed with a Golden Gate and puffy clouds, but right back where I belong. Yelping out for help as I am enclosed by the four arms who have volunteered to fill the numbing pain with love.

I am home.

I feel afloat