So, the joke goes something likeâ
(and stop me if youâve heard this one before)
it goes something like, two kids with depression
walk into a relationship. Now, the bartender asksâ
wait, shit, sorry. See, there isnât any bartender, âcause,
letâs be honest: theyâre not doing their drinking by the glass,
theyâre doing it by the bottle. Okay. Okay, so,
the therapist saysâbut I mean, who can afford
a therapist, these days? But the antidepressants,
the antidepressants say,
âI havenât worked in two years, but
my list of side effects is too long
for you to ever leave me. I
am where you learned to be needed.â
Â
So theyâre coping. Of course,
sheâs forgotten how to talk about herself
in first person, while he
offers up his lifeâs story like itâs a joke
only he finds funny. Turns out
the world is just as heavy
on two sets of shoulders.
Â
Two kids with depression walk into a supermarket.
Two kids with depression walk into a doctorâs office,
walk into a brick wall, walk into
the same bad day three hundred and fifty six times
and call it normal.
The only thing I know about this punchline
is that Iâm not gonna like it. That it looks
like a hurricane of nothing.
Of repetition.
Of wake up, wake up, wake up.
Of moving just fast enough to be considered alive,
but only in the way a houseplant is considered alive,
or a creeper vine. Plenty of things are still here
simply because they donât know how not to be.
Â
My boyfriend talks about death like a place
he has tried to visitâlike a destination
he is always pointed towards, even when
it is not the place he is going. For me,
I donât bother aiming for an ending when,
most days, I donât feel like I ever started.
What I mean isâ
Â
Depression is ugly.
And itâs easy to backslide when you
are trying to climb mountains,
but that does not make you a failure.
Two kids with depression woke up this morning,
walked all the way to tomorrow and the day after that.
Two kids with depression are still walking.
That might not sound like much to you.
Â
What I mean is
weâre a couple of fighters
and we are still here.
In spite of everything.
Or maybe because of it.
What I mean is
suicide is not cowardice, but
it is, without a doubt, an act of bravery
to survive.
dailybridgerton
origamiaround
vaporwave
ellievsbear
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