Top three questions every person with depression hates being asked: Why are you sad? What’s wrong with you? Why are you mad at me?
I’m not sad so much as feeling nothing at all but that’s hard to say when I can’t peel the frown from my lips long enough to remind you I love you.
Nothing is wrong with me, unless of course of you count the fact that I’ve forgotten what it means to be a person. I’ve forgotten what words are supposed to taste like and what a smile is supposed to feel like. I don’t remember what I like to do because these days I really like staring at the ceiling in the dark and watching the colored hallucinations fly across the ceiling. But I wouldn’t say I enjoy that so much as its the one thing I feel good at.
I’m mad at you because you are so beautiful and so good and I’ve forgotten how to love you. I love to look at your eyelashes when you sleep. I watch the way your eyes move behind your eyelids and I imagine that I am somewhere lovely with you. So, I’m not so much mad at you as I’m mad at myself for being this anchor that drags you to the bottom of the ocean. I’m mad at myself because I’m drowning you in my own void but I can’t stop. I’m mad because I can’t remember how I used to show you I love you.
C. Brown 