Dear Depression,
I loved the night. The stars above my roof, i had recently lied dreams upon. The moon above the clouds, that my seven year old self would have jumped on, just to get a real cheese stick.
But now I find myself threading the stitches of my bed. Staying past the dark hours, afraid to fall asleep, because even for a minute I might let my guard down. Leaving my remains to depression to swallow. To chase me with the urge of "Death will be soon". Pushing down my throat every heartbreak, every moment of desperation, tripping me every step, just to make my feet tired. Tired from running from you. Depression. Driving me to the edge of the oceans, "just a little longer." Taking off, letting me sink within the shores of loss hope.
I had my heart set out on a platform of prosperity. As even when I failed, I still managed to find some star to wish upon. Books in one hand, my heart in the other. Holding it up, away from the stains of esteem that outlined itself within the creases left from feelings. My darkness awakened with the scent of hope, coming back, ready to tell me I had no beauty in unconformity. And as each star had drifted off, letting me droop into the rips in my bed, tears in my heart, I held my heart, just a little higher each time, depending on the stars to make you find happiness.
Hoping that if you found happiness, I could finally get a decent sleep. A sleep without being chocked on my midnight thoughts, resting my feet from the creature that lies within you. Depression. You brought misery when happiness was asserted. You wished upon rain when the sun had beckoned. Because even when you're tired, you still have something left of you.
Resting my back from picking up the shards of glass withered within my heart, as you tore yourself past the memories, and deep into the mind tricks of unwanted feelings.
I wished on a star, a star for you, my dearest friend, depression. For I may never find happiness, but for each time my heart timed out, you clawed your nails into the message of self worth, and for every lost cry, you were there. Bringing me terror that rang to the constant sound of failure. The look of fear circling my eyes, hoping not to bump into you, not to scare you, not to worry. And for each broken bone, my heart sized smaller, until the room grew tighter, and the threads within the seams on my bed, tangled. Until the night grew cold and it was just you and me, left alone with emotions the size of bricks, giving you my condolences of the night to please leave me alone. You, depression, sucked your way past my mind, and into my heart. Giving my feet a break, my back a rest, as my hand fell to beat of loneliness that startled the rain. Leaving my heart to shatter under my bed, full of fear, it was just you and I. The stars dissolving into the sky,
Depression, as you were my last thought.
