I’m sorry.
I didn’t ask to be depressed,
or depressive.
Happiness always
seems so far away,
and when I reach my hand out,
my fingers always shy away,
like what’s the use in a
two second pleasure.
And I wonder if being this
way is just a state of mind.
If I am truly messed up for
being so dark and gloomy.
If my one day of happiness,
makes up for the unplanned
week of gray areas.
If my one laugh will make
up for all the stolen smiles
I took to try to remember that
I am still alive, even human.
If a splash of milk in my
coffee would brighten my day,
or if there was someone there
in the morning telling me it’s okay.
I wonder if they notice my
little pieces of love is
sometimes a cry for help,
and sometimes my tears
are a thank you for even
picking up the phone.
Someone once told me
that my sugar is salt,
and my salt is pure pepper.
See what they did there?
Dark, no sugar.
The urgency to delete
social media is at
one hundred, and ten percent.
The urgency to not
answer any phone calls or
text is at two hundred, and ten.
The urgency to remove myself
from the world has been
at three years and counting,
but who’s counting,
except me.
It is crazy how comfort
food stops the feeling,
I mean, air taste pretty
good on my tongue,
tears tastes pretty
good on my wounds.
I keep feeling this big change,
and I think I am so afraid
of what it may be.
If I’ll remove everyone.
If I’ll have not a care
but for myself.
If this change will have
people walk away from
me without my doing,
the “leaving game”.
I just keep having this
vision of me smiling.
It is so beautiful,
I cannot explain the
flutters in my heart
while I am crying.
All I know is, it is for
a better me,
but I keep running into
this cement wall I keep building.
I keep replacing the bricks
with overlapping jenga pieces.
It keeps me safe.
I am sorry the fake smiles
I place in my tone,
It keeps you safe.
I am sorry, for always
being so sorry,
every time, but burden
is written in my name,
and rewritten in my middle,
my last;
Pressed into my chest,
into my head, and drips
from the tips of my hair,
onto my lap.
It burns like acid.
My town weeps with me,
…I didn’t ask to be
depressed or depressive,
but I have learned with
a curse comes a blessing(s);
One is peace.
One is love.
One is understanding.
One is patience.
One is forgiveness.
I have always prayed
for a day of pure love and happiness,
but I know it starts with me.
I have work to do,
starting with no more “sorry’s”
Starting in baby steps,
with maybe a splash of love
in my hands,
then wrapped around me,
in so many colors.
