Depression

Something is wrong.

You can't remember, but it haunts you.

You're shaking, inside, heart trembling, torso

Caving in on

itelf.

Normalcy is the only thing you want,

Despite your eyes

flickering around, trying to find the source of this.

This.

Holding your hand in front of your face,

Desparate for something to focus on,

Your fingers flinch away.

Knuckles crack,

and

You watch your own body

betray you,

Because you cannot watch your mind do it.

It searches for an answer to your question, what the fuck is wrong?

And the answer it finds,

Denies,

is

This.

The chemicals overcome any logic,

Seratonin

dopamine

Oxytocin

The mixture equaling something entirely unequal.

This.

Your mind reaches for anything but that realization,

picking fights,

attaches itself to them ferociously,

With him, with friends, with inanimate objects,

You feelings cannot be trusted.

It is your life now.

This.

you pray,

though you're not the type

maybe the meds will be the answer

maybe the shame and

guilt

will soon become

bearable.

And of course you doubt it,

as you always do,

restlessly, listlessly

In the state of mind you live in,

That something is irrevocably,

irreedemably,

wrong.

This.

But you forget, to check your emotion,

as that is the

nature

of the beast.

To feel,

that one thing,

and not think.

The thing that is wrong,

is

This.