Starving my Depression (Poem #160)

Hello, I will be your doctor today.

Please tell me what I can help you with.

Well, sir….I have chronic, cycled depression,

Acute Anxiety,

Haphazard Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder,

and a fluctuating eating disorder…

Since the age of 8 I have felt like I am not good enough,

Have attempted to kill myself 3 times, but succeeded in my mind over a thousand,

My intrusive thoughts appear more like imaginary friends than skeletons,

Insomnia no longer is a word, but a conscious state of being completely awake while living a nightmare,

But overall I am generally functional…

Well the best I can give you is these pills…

Here take one of these in the morning, and one of these at night to go to sleep.

Does anyone else find it ironic that one of the greatest side affects of antidepressants is weight gain…

Followed by drowsiness,

Potential breakouts,

Suicidal thoughts,

and a lose of Libido….

As if I didn’t walk in here self-conscious enough,

My anxiety spikes just thinking that the things I am clinging to to make me better may actually bring to life all of my nightmares at once.

Remember to always take your pills in the morning,

Ignore the sickness in your stomach,

Pretend you aren’t overstimulated simply by light,

Accept the fact that your state of bliss was concentrated down to a pill,

Swallow the pill with your sadness.

I gained 10 pounds in a month on my antidepressants,

Which was surprising because I didn’t think that zombies could gain weight,

Especially the ones who are starving to feel better,

While still shoving tranquilizers down their throats.

I starved my depression so much so that the light at the end of the tunnel just turned out to be the blinding sense of being “happy” that they promised,

My chill pills didn’t make me feel safer,

Rather I felt as if I was floating on the open waters of the ocean,

My monsters clawing below me,

When really I was in my bathtub…

I found that instead of feeling more alive, I felt more like death,

Each pill become another bullet-hole to my creativity,

The fabric placed over my eyes so I didn’t see that I was only “drowning” in a cup of water I continued to fill…

So Mr. Doctor, I come here today to tell you

Please keep your pills to yourself,

Instead,

Please give my a prescription for my life back.