I want to speak, but my lips feel sewn together

like the tight stiches of a handmade quilt.

How do you speak if no one’s listening,

if your voice is banned,

or no one understands your words?

The silence rages against me.

I’m not sure which way things are supposed to be at the moment

It’s hard to breathe,

to participate,

to be.

I feel sad,

like there is a force pushing down on me.

The days of drowning are here again

a cold, suffocating place only I can feel.

I don’t want to get up.

I don’t want to move at all.

In these moments it takes all the strength I have

to make good choices.

I can’t go forward,

I can’t go back.

A great sense of weariness sweeps over me

and I question my very existence.

Why are we here

and what does it mean?

One thought on “depression

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