bahama mama

Depression isn’t drinking coffee and shaky hands holding a cigarette or writing poetry late at night. It’s not sleeping in cold winter mornings or a book store visit where you meet the love of your life and they somehow put the broken pieces back together with a smile. Depression is staying home all the time and sleeping for 4 days in a row. It’s greasy hair because you haven’t showered in a week. It’s not eating. It’s tear stained pillows and trash covering every inch of your room because the thought of cleaning it makes you feel sick. It’s a pill when you wake up. It’s like slow moving traffic in your brain you want so desperately to get out off it you wanna find the nearest exit but you’re stuck. It’s therapy every Wednesday. It’s telling your friends you’re busy when in reality you can’t handle the thought of leaving your bed. It’s a report card with all failing grades and trying to explain to your mom that you’ll do better next time when you both know that’s a lie.