Depression (Part 2)

Eat until you’re sick
Snap until you bruise
Run until you’re limp
Drink shit loads of booze

Spend until you’re skint
Sleep until you’re sore
Cry until you’re empty
Sleep around like a whore

Shout until you’re hoarse
Cut until you bleed
Work until you drop
Smoke a shedload of weed

Lie until you’re spent
Smile until you’re alone
Write until you’re wrung
Forget all you’ve ever known

The Struggle

When you see me, you see the finished article.

Washed, dressed, hair in place, make up on and a smile on my face.

But you don’t see what it takes to get there.

You don’t see me trying to muster the strength to open my eyes in the morning.

You don’t see me forcing my weary bones out of bed.

You don’t see me berating myself as I sob in the shower.

You don’t see me looking in the mirror as I question whether or not today is the day.

You don’t see me wracked with indecision on what to wear.

You don’t see me soothing my pain as I twist and pull out my hair.

You don’t see me apply make up in the hope it makes me disappear.

You don’t see me riddled with anxiety as I lurk in the doorway.

You don’t see me breathing deeply before finally pushing open the office door.

When you see me, you see the finished article.

But just because you don’t see the struggle, doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen.

Just because you see me smile, it doesn’t mean it’s real.


I am amazed, yet again, that I’ve found the courage to get out of bed.

You have no idea how hard it is.

This sustained internal struggle.

The conscious effort required to motivate myself to move.

The strength of belief needed to convince my anxious brain that we can get through the day unscathed.

It’s exhausting.

If only I could move to the future at a quicker pace.

Or perhaps return to the naivety of the past.

Travel back to a time when sadness was mere affectation.

Where melancholy was a comforting friend.

And death wasn’t such a viable option.