…even still

…soul upon soul upon soul has written, spoken, and even poetically transcribed what depression is to them-

and soul upon soul upon soul shall continue to do so beyond now and the tomorrows of tomorrows-

but will there ever be a found writing or spoken word that can truly detail it?

despite the gift of the delivering mind or the craftsmanship of the black, blue, or colored ink-

because it’s like this heavy weighted ball, sitting on the mind-

it’s so very heavy-

and you medicate, and you medicate, and you medicate; but there’s still this pressure-

and everything that should be simplified is massively intensified-

questioning conversations, texts, and emails that occurred days prior- replaying them out loud as if you can adjust the words you spoke or sent, on a time that’s surpassed and is no more- making the mental weight even more massive-

and even the ones that care become exhausted, denying the exhaustion- so you pretend too, and live on the lies of happy face emojis and hearts- until the burn out becomes the burn out of all burn outs-

and you lie down on the streets pavement, while walking on the streets pavement- but no one knows. making the mental mask even more massive-

and no one knows the wars you fight daily, to simply see the sun again- the sound of music again- the lightest touch of wind-

and it makes you angry- it strangles your strength- it questions your religion- and even struggles with the reality of God-

forgive us.

but imagine fighting to live moment after moment after moment- yet the children need water, so the bill must be paid- so you take your diseased mind and fight to focus- and fight to work- because they need a home too- making the mental survival far more massive- and far more dangerous. do you know how difficult it is to focus with a severely diseased mind?

and then comes night- and the moon dances- and it celebrates what no one knows to celebrate- and even in celebration, you find a mental sadness, even still-

finding the attempt of another soul, of another gifted mind, of another writer; attempting to define the war of depression-

but it still feels unwritten- undefined- like a blank page filled with words, yet with no words- like an effortless effort-

just know that i love you all my darlings- and i see you, even when the world cannot- and you’ve done nothing wrong- and you’re not broken- healing comes from acknowledging-

and we shall heal together-

wars, rains, hurricanes, and thunder- we’ve got this- im with you- as is God…

even still-

even still-

never forget.

kb