i’m so curious
if it’s a universal experience
to have a tiny internal voice
constantly telling you all the things
you’ve done wrong
or just are
that are wrong
day in and day out
and as one grows, it doesn’t go away
it simply is able to be drowned out a bit more
and a bit more
with the experiences and knowledge and
voices of loved ones
or if that’s only a universal experience
of those of us with depression and/or anxiety
thoughts?
a wave of a big sad
is threatening to crash down
upon me
and i’m just standing
here on the beach
waiting
waving back
not prepared
but still aware
it’ll hit
and then i may be
pulled
away
from the safety of the shore
[but i do love oceans
and maybe there’s something there
to explore?]
perhaps
i’m not as dissociative as i have always/often concluded i am
perhaps
i’ve been in the moment this entire time
and it’s a coping mechanism
to convince myself
i’m not
like it’s a coping mechanism
to pretend you are over
love
when all we have is love
when all we are is love
i feel like i’m coasting
sliding around in
almost-depression-land
and i can’t tell what’s
keeping me relatively afloat —
is it having theatre again?
is it my kip? my cat? my dog?
is it my brain chemistry/hormone levels finally calming and settling?
is it the summer heat?
or the summer sunlight?
is it the medication whose only job is to keep the depression from overtaking me?
is it some combination of all of these?
but it’s so strange to feel
the slippery sliding that usually means
an approach to a worse and worse time
but then feeling overall mildly okay
a whole ass essay
in poem-form
that’s how i carve out what i’m thinking
what my soul has been saying
in non-words for decades
and i still don’t think the language is all there
nor the concepts fully categorized
but each poem is a start
an opening door to somewhere
or someone
with maybe a little more
understanding
[but only if i share it]
tummy aches last night
was it stress?
was it existential?
was it something i ate?
was it something i didn’t eat?
was it my sinuses and their dripping into my stomach?
or the meds i take for my sinuses
dripping into my
stomach?
i don’t know what it was
but it
sucked
scrolling the feed
social media and doom
and feeling the gloom of
what a world what a world what a world
reading the newspaper
and seeing only sensation
the worst things are what sell
what a world what a world what a world
listening to the hot gossip
and feeling not so great about it
and maybe the subject matter and the talk give me
what a world what a world what a world
what a world
i cry
what a world
i try to fly away from it all
what a world
i mean
i’d like to die
but that could just be the suicidal ideation talking
or it could be this world
what a world
what a world
it could just be
this world
and here’s the thing
i know
i know
i know the world
can be pretty great sometimes
the people
their actions
there’s compassion everywhere
if you know what to look for
but sometimes we get caught up thinking
what a world
that we forget
what a world
to take a moment
what a world
and forget
what a world
about the world
what a world
and concentrate
what a world
on those
what a world
immediately
what a world
surrounding us
what a
huh
these folks/animals/vibes are pretty nice actually
what a
kind
cozy
comfy
tiny
world
to do
to do
today
today
what to do today of all days
other than to trap yourself in your mind
and climb and climb into the hole of depression
hold that anxiety deep within me
and maybe
maybe
make it out the other side
someday
[that’s on my to-do list
for another day]
hold your breath
count to ten
and count to ten
again
breathing reminds you
you’re still alive
though you’ve spent your whole life
dying
to die
compose yourself
expose your insides
for art
for payment
for friendship
for funzies
for a dare
to anyone out there
who may feel the same way
[though it’s so lonely
in one’s own mind
it’s impossible to imagine
finding company]
wander around
while catatonic to the ground
and know
it’s all in your head
[which is somehow supposed to make it
easier]
[what do they know]
i wonder what i’d be like
free
from the depression
that so often
buries me
[would i even recognize
in a mirror
the person i’d see?]
kipventures 