Many Arms of Depression

Depression is many things

A theif, a murderer, and a friend

How?

Depression feeds me comforting lies

Telling me constantly about how I'm not needed

How I am not worth anyone's time

Telling me that I should die.

I overthink and act on non-regular instincts

The blade looks promising 

It calls and draws me near

I act

I once slide the knife so deep I felt nothing

I died

Not physically

Mentally

I realized that if I can take the pain away like this then I'll be okay

Once again, depression and it's comforting lies had a hold on me

It never let go

Skip ahead to 2 years later

I sit on my bed typing this poem not knowing what to say

But saying what comes to mind

What comes to mind is how much nothing has ever changed

How much I still fall for depression and it's lies

But this time depression has a friend over

The kind you never really want around

Anxiety

It's there for everything

When I wake up, when I go to sleep, when I go to eat, and oh, so much more

It makes me feel worthless

Like something is wrong with me

Like I'm not "normal"

I'm not, though

That's the thing

Depression has told me so many lies that I don't want the painful truth

I am forever in the many arms of depression