jonathan

depression is a lonely place
like a dilapidated shack in the middle of the woods
no neighbors to speak of
not a soul to be seen
just you
and the trees
their branches looking more and more like monsters each day

you try to run
try to scream

but you can't escape the house inside your mind

i wish you would've peered through the curtains
unlatched the window
and seen the sun shining in the sky
there's a house next door with smoke coming out the chimney
and one around the bend containing the smiling faces of your family

if you'd just look a little farther
you'd see

but i understand
it's hard to look very far while you're shackled to a chair
in the house inside your mind

doctors are for healing yet they couldn't heal you
diagnose
prescribe
repeat
but no matter what they did
you remained trapped
bound to your disease
with no end in sight

so you found the only escape route you could think of
free from your chains at last
but i wish you could've seen the sun shining in the sky
and seen the love radiating from your family's every pore
however
i know it's not that easy
shackles can't be broken with bare hands

still

i wish i could see you smile one more time.

but now you'll never feel the darkness again
say hi to grandma for me
and my sister
in the meantime
we'll live for you

i'll see you again someday

i know you'll be smiling

12.10.15

Progress

Her friend asks, "How do you know when you're over him?"

"I think," she says, "it's when you stop remembering the little things he'd do to make you smile, or how you'd fall asleep with the phone at your ear, talking about nothing and everything at once. It's when your stomach stops dropping at the sound of his favorite song on the radio, or when you can watch his favorite movie without imagining him there beside you."

"It's when you feel indifferent at the thought of him, when the only thought you have when your mother mentions him is to hope he's doing well. It's when the sweatshirt he left on the chair in your room stops suffocating you in your sleep, and when you stop wishing he was there whenever it's 11:11."

"Instead," she breathes, a small smiling gracing her lips, "it's when you start to wish for your own happiness, for unsolicited smiles that have nothing to do with the thought of him."

"So, have you gotten over him?"

She pauses for a moment, biting her lip as she considers this.

"Well," she replies, "not really. But I'm getting there."

"I'll be there soon, I think."