It’s not that I have no one who cares,
it’s not that no one would comfort me in a moment of despair,
it’s the overwhelming feeling of not being able to reach out
in fear of being too much or an inconvenience.
I don’t want to burden anyone with my depressive episode;
when I’m sad, no one should have to deal with me than me.
They tell me I’m not a burden, that they really do love me,
but when I’m so deep in a pit of self-loathing depression,
it’s hard to believe anyone could ever care enough.
These fits of depression come out of the blue full force sometimes,
it’s not always easy to catch before I’m lying on the floor at 2 am,
headphones in, lights off, self-deprecating thoughts accumulating rapidly.
I want to believe I’ve gotten better at catching myself before it’s too late.
Some days are harder than others,
but I know I’ll pick myself up again.
I’ll survive this no matter how hard it gets,
I won’t let this sadness swallow me whole.
When the sun shines, I’ll let it
and when the rain comes, I’ll bring an umbrella.