I Sold Myself a Fantasy

I sold myself a fantasy.

Staring across that deep dark abyss I didn’t want to believe that life would get harder,

That I would get more anxious,

That my depression was to be my downfall.

Laying awake on my bed,

Feeling numb,

Nothing,

Except for the thoughts running through my head.

Joy was a fleeting thing,

And so was sadness.

No emotion rented its space in my heart for too long.

I saw people,

Hands outstretched,

Looking for help.

They told me things,

Things that were difficult to act upon,

Since nothing seemed to be working.

Hanging out with friends became a chore,

Doing homework became a burden,

And all the time I wondered,

How much longer?

How much longer will I feel like this?

That abyss stretched on forever.

The days grew shorter,

But as my time as a child grew closer to an end,

I felt lighter.

Sure,

I thought,

If life wants to smack me down and rub my face in the dirt,

Then let it.

It wouldn’t be the first time I hit rock bottom.

No matter how far into the cave I descended,

I knew I would always crawl my way back out.

Fingernails bloody,

Face triumphant.

The depression weaned itself from my mind,

Freeing my emotions from the cage they had been locked in.

But I always know,

In the furthest reaches of my conscience,

That the little beast will still be there,

Waiting.

And it’ll keep waiting,

Because I won’t try to appease it anymore.