You know what depression is like?

It’s a neck ache that won’t go away but stops bothering you

as you accept a constant state of discomfort is the best you feel.

Deep and dark are adjectives that carry too much weight,

But not well.

Why bother with metaphors?

If you don’t feel it, you don’t get it.

And you suggest things to help ‘change your mood’.

Existentialism is far to eloquent a concept to describe

the hopeless, helpless, I can’t even tolerate thinking about doing,

creating,

being who you think I am.

No tolerance

for disappointment, expectation, love.

Irritability is my most reliant companion.

And the bed.

Leave me alone.

Shame, you too.

Just leave me to it

and

I’ll heal.

I know all about this from every angle

and the knowledge gives one hope;

and that is that waiting it out has worked

all the last times.

I stay here for you,

But it’s hard to keep starting again.

Over and over and over again.

Wiser but worse.

I’m embarrassed that I’m not better than this.