My depression has a soundtrack.

It sounds like a racing heart,
So fast that nurses hook me to machines
Just in case. Just to check.

It sounds like
Music blaring in my ears while I walk through town,
The Cranberries and Amy Winehouse and The Dresden Dolls
Serenade me
As I pretend I’m someone else.

It’s a constant barrage
Of ‘why didn’t I do more’
Mixed with ‘I can’t get out of bed.’

It’s a dirty house and an empty fridge,
The sound of the boiler pumping out heat
While I sit on the couch and shake.

It’s constant noise-
YouTube videos I don’t want to watch,
Podcasts I’m not interested in,
Shows and movies I’ve seen a hundred times.

A barrage of information,
Just to keep my own mind quiet,
To keep myself out of the dark.

It’s the voices of friends,
Of doctors,
Giving out advice and prescriptions,
‘Try this,’ they say.
‘Try that.’

It sounds like heavy breathing,
Fast in and out,
After waking from a nightmare,
Sweaty and petrified,
Because even in dreams,
There is no escape.

It’s my phone vibrating,
Telling me about messages and missed calls,
While I sit and stare,
Too overwhelmed by my own existence
To respond.

It’s a scream
Of frustration, exhaustion, and fear.
Trying my best and not being enough,
A prisoner inside my own mind,
Pounding on the walls of my skull,

Begging for freedom.

 

 

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