An Ode To My DepressionYou are my writer’s block when I really need that essay done.The reason why I wear only pants in public,For the fear that people stare at my thighs when wearing shorts.You are the only reason that I feel some days. But feeling is not always the best option for me.  An ode to my depression. You are the late night binge eating because I starved myself the other night after a random pretty girl told me I looked big that day.You are  all of my late night insecurities packed into one landmine, ready for me to step on you at any given time. You are the late night crying as I read those mean tweets directed at my new pictures. Tearing me down in the span of 200 characters with a peace sign at the end and a kissy face.  An ode to my depression. You are my best friend in moment like this.The moments where my “real best friend” tells me she doesn’t want to hang out with me around other people for the fear she will be called a loser like me. You are the alienation of myself from other people, Twisting their words in my mind to mean something completely different.You are my writing muse. An ode to my depression.You are my conscience,That little talking deep in your head telling you those dirty little things you never wanted to hear in the first place. You are the little devil upon my right shoulder,But you killed my angel long ago. You make my decisions for me. Makeup? no makeup, you deserve to hear what people think of the real you. Shorts? No, no shorts. Never in a million years would people want to see that. This shirt? What are you? Twelve? You are in every decision I make, you are my decisions.  An ode to my depression. You aren’t so bad some days.Some days you leave me alone and hide in those long corridors I created for you all those years ago. But others, You are the dark, dingyCorridors in my mind, twisting and turning in every which way, so that I can never get out. Turning the torches on your walls into deep amber ashes,To powder, never to be seen again. So that I will never really know where I’m headed. I often run into your rough walls, And I know that everytime I do, I will hear those harsh whispers in my ears, behind my right shoulder. I turn,  but there’s no one there. It’s all in my head, it always is.  An ode to my depression. You are the only thing that I really hate and love at the same time. You are like  a mother to me in ways, guiding me in the right direction,But letting me choose on my own along the way.Do I head left? Or right? I think. Go to the right, it’ll get you out, you say. Though, you lead me into the pits of hell, bringing me the fear of burning alive in my own mind,The burning that is only in my nightmares. The feeling of pure terror as I wake in the midst of the night to feel that my flesh hasn’t actually been singed off of my stained bones. I look in the mirror, but all I see is you. You may be horrible most days, but you are a part of me.An ode to my depression.