A Letter From My Depression

By Jamie Bryant

I taught you everything you know

Like how to play hopscotch with your memories

Jumping from one mistake to another over and over and over

I taught you how to hula hoop your whole life, and every bad decision you ever made around your waist 

I taught you how to dance in my embrace

Your childhood was always mine to reimagine

I taught you how to claw open your throat and empty your gargled screams on a page

I tore your skin into ribbons and braided your hair with the shreds 

You always looked the most elegant when you wore me like an heirloom 

You and your genetics, the lottery numbers from hell, tattooed across your skull

I showed you how to take your blood and shattered bones, 

And write yourself your obituary and thirteen suicide notes 

For the birthday you didn't plan to make it to 

The morbidity of my presence bled through your eyes

They have always been windows to your soul

How soulless you are now.

Blind to all the opportunities I stole from you

You fell into me like it was the welcome you never received in your own home

And I dwelled in your mind for years

You are leaving, now. 

Battered suitcase of memoirs on your arm

And still, you hesitate

I have clipped the wings you so desperately need,

Your body aches at the idea of erasing me 

Come now, and find I have painted you even in my absence 

You will never be free of my abject horror

Rationale: This poem is a rewrite of one I wrote a few years ago. I wanted to explore how it felt to start to rely on the consistency and assuredness of depression as you grew up with it. How it became sort of a friend and mentor. The ending seems rather morbid, but being depressed for so many years leaves a mark that is hard to get rid of. Actually I've been told the whole thing is rather morbid. It's hard not to be. After a while you stop believing things can get better. I'm still waiting on that one, but maybe this will resonate with someone and they'll feel less alone.