To Be A Fish

Having high functioning depression
Is like walking around
With your head in a fish bowl
And I have perfected the illusion
Of being a fish.
When I try to explain to people
That the bubbles in my bowl
Are the results of my
Gasping for oxygen that's just
Out of my reach,
They scratch their heads
In wonder and ask why
I don't just use my gills.
"Well you've always just
Used your gills," they say.
But my gills are a well-staged faςade
Put in place years ago
By straight A's and happy smiles.
They call me the life of the party
An enthusiastic extrovert
The highest of optimists.
I'm the one who's always okay.
I'm involved on my campus 
I hold down a part time job
And pretty decent grades.
These kinds of things
Are not generally taught as
Symptoms of depression
No, these things are the 
Side effects of my depression.
I have done my best
To throw everything
That my depression gave me
Right back at it.
Sometimes it's so hard 
Just to get out of bed
But then I remember 
That I get to go to 
My job that helps women
Feel good about themselves.
Sometimes the tears just won't come
Because I'm just so damn numb
And all I can do is just stare at my thumbs
But then I remember
I get to help lead an organization
That helps people like me
Feel welcome regardless of their mental health.
Sometimes I want to
Open myself up again
Just to make sure
Blood still runs through my veins
But then I remember
That one day I will
Protect those who can't
Protect themselves, and my 
Body is important enough
To keep out of harm's way.
Sometimes I'll get in my car
And drive as fast as I can
Destination — left lane
But then I remember
That one day I will change the world
Of a small child
Just searching for a home.
So when I tell you
That my gills are just props
Please believe me.
Please believe that
My struggles and battles
Are just as valid
As anyone else's
Regardless of how I may seem
To the naked eye.
High functioning depression
May have made me into a fish
But it forgot one thing:
A shark is a fish too.