what it’s like to live with seasonal depression
right before your peak month
at 7am last morning my body broke into sobs
because i could taste the toothpaste on the roof of my mouth
and knew in a month i won’t be able to anymore
what it’s like to live with four bodies
one for each season
i am a blind woman given sight each year
in echoing rays of sunshine and beaming laughs
in the ability to breathe and speak and eat
as if my limbs move without protest and my poems —
they exist only etched into the redwoods
as if every life movement contains purpose
what it’s like to believe
you can extend your lifeline from june
so i tell myself
every year you get better
but a diary entry from last march reads
“i am being held captive in eternal february”
fourteen times consecutively
and god only knows what i wrote on the torn-out pages
i burnt into ashes out of shame
what it’s like to count 28 days
while you swallow paper cuts
what it’s like to tell your mother
you need therapy again every year
what it’s like to lose your body
to a page in your calendar
what it’s like:
we eat and we sleep and we try to breathe
we write and we speak and
(we really do try)
and it will swallow me whole
anyways
snowghoul
andulkaphoto
discoholicmusic
blakekathryn
pixelskylines
baratheonpilled
tangentwithtanner
titsay
gummygunk
