Thoughts and Things

It's not funny

It's not funny.

I'm not funny.

I am not a laughing matter.

I don't talk about it much

because if I did

they'd laugh

or they'd think I'm crazy.

Maybe I am,

but it's not a laughing matter.

I was trying to make friends

and trying to fit in

like my mom wanted me to

and I thought I was doing okay.

Everything was going fine

until my mom opened her mouth.

"Don't forget to take your medicine!"

My mother's voice made all conversation cease.

Everyone waited a beat

and I held my breath

waiting for the questions

and the weird looks

but they did the one thing

I never expected.

They laughed.

"Better go take your meds!"

"Yeah, it'll get crazy if you don't!"

"Go take your meds, crazy!"

In that moment

I never thought I could hate anyone so much.

I hid my face and scurried away

and I took my medicine

and I returned after my cheeks stopped burning

from the embarrassment and anger.

And they never asked any questions.

I suppose I should be grateful for that,

but I couldn't help but hate her.

My mother could've said anything else,

she didn't have to scream it across the house for everyone to hear.

And they had no right

to laugh at my pain.

They had no right at all.

The only defense they could have

is that they didn't know.

Depression is like a disease.

I might be crazy

but for other reasons

and it hurts so much to be laughed at

and you can't go jumping to conclusions

ever.

So now my mom wonders

why I don't have friends over anymore,

and the truth is simply this:

silence can't laugh at me,

solitude can't insult me,

and neither can judge me.

And even then

I can never enjoy myself

if she can't shut her goddamn mouth.