whitewash

like a tidal wave it hit
me, washing away any
bit of reality I had left.
tearing away the
last shred of dignity
               humanity
        hope
life.

I held tight to
destruction and gave way
to abuse, fueling the
already roaring fire. Adding
to my distress by
succumbing to the cycle, guilt.
pity me! I cried, never
truly knowing what
I was saying. like
a child gone
awry, for attention.

it's not like
that,
though.
you should know,
having "been there" and
"done that." and I do, but
that doesn't excuse
ME. and that's what
depression is.

extract me from the accepted
and cast me aside to
dry up in the sun; the intense
fire of self-doubt,
hate,
despair.
leave my soul to shrivel
up like a raisin, throwing
artificial quick-fixes at my
already messed-up head.
give me something real. like
the life of the
women I compare
my self to. right.

there is no real
with depression. no
tangible, no sense.
logic does not live here
             because you make
us feel insane.
we cut and write and
scream for release, for
reality. because ours is faded
and we've lost it
and we grab in the dark
for anything to soothe
us.