On the days when I don't think I'll make it,
When the burden of life refuses to lessen
Its interminable persecution of my soul,
I pull out a rubber band and slip it over my wrist.
A snap for the driver who cut me off.
A snap for the girl who wouldn't stop jabbering
In the movie theater on her ridiculously large mobile phone.
A snap for the man who abandoned his kids.
A snap for the woman who punched them.
A snap. A snap. A snap.
Until my wrist is raw and red.
It should be tended to, but I just ignore it.
Life doesn't care so why should I?
I crawl into bed and shut out the noise
Until all that's left is the emptiness in my head.
Then I sleep.
But when I wake, something is different.
Something small has changed.
And my fingers travel of their own volition
To snap, snap, snap, snap, snap away.
But it's gone.
The band that held my anger in check,
The band that kept my mask in place,
The band that made me feel whole,
The band is gone.
And in it's place is a bandage--
My wound now wrapped and dressed
As it should have been.
I don't know who did it,
But someone was kind to me...
That little change slips over me
Like a new coat,
Makes me hold my head a little higher,
Slips into my soul
Like a good hot meal,
Makes me willing to smile a little easier,
And now I see a small respite
From the interminable persecution.


To those who do not have depression:
Your small acts of unasked for kindness towards us affected by any degree of depression can make a huge difference.

To those who suffer this along with me:
*There is always hope. We just need to learn to lift our heads up and look for it.

When will I see you again?
When are you going to forgive yourself? When will you be whole again?
When are you coming home?
When will you love yourself too?
When are you going to live for you?
When will I see your smile again?
When are you going to let down your walls?
When will we be free?

*How do I answer the girl in the mirror?

I waited beside the sea tonight
For the moon to rise above.
I listened to the waves
As they crashed on the shore,
And pondered the meaning of love
And loss, life and longevity,
And why clown fish live in anemones.

The cold salty water
Breached the shore
Where I sat,
Wiggling my toes in the sand,
And the sudden coolness
Shocked my mind
From the depths of deep consternation
Over the feelings of solitude
Amid the crowds,
And into the sharp reality
That I had chosen to sit alone
With the sea,
As is often my practice and habit.

I pulled out my paper,
Wooden board and fountain pen,
And began to scratch out a letter,
For what Lord Byron once said
Is very much true
Especially for us who are hermits:

*Letter writing is the only device for combining solitude with good company.

Summer turns to fall.
A part of my soul is gone.
I've misplaced my smile.

Dark twilight's embrace
Welcomes the slap of rubber
Worn shoes on pavement.

Nothing makes sense
When heat gives way to coldness,
The heart is missing.

Death's fingers creep
Like lovers' hands over stilled
Blankets. Quick! Slap away!

I was just beginning to reconsider
Your current status in my life.
I've kept you at the edge, the periphery,
For quite a period of time now,
And I was starting to think
Maybe I had made a mistake.
Then you used me again
And it all came crashing back...

The way you'd ask me to dinner
Then show up three hours late. No apology.
The way you'd ask me to do you a favor,
Then never say, "Thank you." Not once.
The way you'd promise I was your family,
Then refused to talk to me. Not ever.

At first I thought it was me:
I wasn't good enough,
I have horrible personality inadequacies,
I'm not worth anyone's love,
And some days, I still think all that's true.
But some days, I realize
It's not just me.

You never thought about how I felt
Sitting alone at the restaurant
Waiting for hours for you to show up
Only to give up and order and eat alone.

You never thought about how I felt
Letting my guard down one more time
Because you felt lonely, needed a friend,
But no one else was around to support you
So you asked me to give you another chance,
And I would knowing that you wouldn't know
How big a risk I was willing to take
To open my heart to you again
Because, well, it was you.

You live your life according to the motto:
Some people were meant to come in
And go out of your life;
They weren't meant to stay.
But I don't think you know how lame
Of an excuse that is for you to just leave
People behind when you've finished using them.

You are not the kind of person
Who supports and loves and cares.
You use and leave and take for granted.

So the next time you call and ask a favor,
I'm going to say, "sorry, wrong number.
There's no one here who can help you."