Depression
Tuesday, 7 October 2014 | 20:32 | 0 comments
Some friends don't understand this.
They don't understand how desperate I am
to have someone say, I love you and I support
you just the way you are because you're
wonderful just the way you are. They don't understand
that I can't remember anyone
ever saying that to me. I am so demanding
and difficult for my friends because I want
to crumble and fall apart before them so that
they will love me even though I am no fun,
lying in bed, crying all the time, not moving.
I'm the girl who is lost in space,
the girl who is disappearing always,
forever fading away and receding farther and
farther into the background.
Just like the Cheshire cat, someday I will
suddenly leave, but the artificial warmth of
my smile, that phony, clownish curve, the kind you see on
miserably sad people and villains in Disney movies,
will remain behind as an ironic remnant.
I am the girl you see in the photograph from some
party someplace or some picnic in the park,
the one who is in fact soon to be gone.
When you look at the picture again,
I want to assure you, I will no longer be there.
I will be erased from history,
like a traitor in the Soviet Union.
Because with every day that goes by,
I feel myself becoming more and more invisible
