A Child Named Depression
I felt his tiny hands tug lightly to the hem of my skirt
“What do you want?”
“Solitude”
“I’m busy”
His dainty fingers curled around my own
“What do you want?”
“Repose”
“I have no time”
From the corner of my eye, I noticed his face redden as he threw forward his hand, striking me with tremendous force
“WHAT DO YOU WANT?”
“Liberation”
“YOU ARE NOT MY OWN”
He scowled, just before bashing his skull into the concrete wall, seemingly becoming more and more unhinged with each merciless blow that he brought unto himself. I felt a tear trickle down my face as he fell limp to the floor. I collapsed alongside him, my head buried in my hands.
“What do you want?”
“Acknowledgement”
“I don’t want you here”
He crawled into my lap, clutching his heart. This time I diverted my eyes to meet his somber gaze.
“What do you need?”
“Acceptance”
I planted a tender kiss on his forehead, and gave him just that.
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