I do not have depression,
But I face it every day.
I have spent years
trying to save someone else's life
instead of taking care of my own.
Many times I have caught myself
picking people up off the floor
and leaving a piece of me in their place.
I have spent many sleepless nights coaxing them out of death
because the insomnia was having it's way anyways..

I am not asking for sympathy
or a pat on the back.
I ask simply that you remember that
I am human too.
I can break just like everyone else can.
The only difference is that I am willing to break for the sake of those who are already broken.

I do not have depression.
But that doesn't mean I am not depressed.

To you

I'm not really sure how I'll start this letter, which is a first since you know I love writing them. I'm trying to picture your reaction as you read these words, and I am both relieved and frightened. Relieved, because I finally have what I have been wanting to say for months off my chest. Frightened, because I may be making a grave mistake that I'll surely suffer the consequences of later.

You are like a drug to me. You're not good for me, and I'm not good for you. Yet I keep wanting you, missing you, craving your presence. You still take up about 90% of the thoughts in my mind and I wake up, every morning, thinking about you. I've been doing that for months, and I wonder when I'll stop, and it scares me to know that it may not be for a while.

Is there a reason for this letter? Yes, there is. I need you to know the words I have never told you. If I had to die tomorrow, I can promise you this: I'll die regretting not having told you this. You meant so much to me, and yet somehow you still do. Everywhere I go, you seem to follow me, haunting me like a ghost. And, to be completely frank, I deserve better than you. And I felt like you never appreciated me, but at the same time, it was my fault for not showing you who the true me was. I was always scared, so stupidly scared. I never showed you my true ability to love, and for that I am sorry.

I don't exactly know what I'm asking for you, or if I'm asking for anything at all. But know this - I miss you, and if I could redo our time together, I would.

I hope you have a good life. It hurts me to know I won't be apart of it. But hey, people come and go. That's life. Maybe we will both find someone better.

- Someone who was once your everything x

We're not in love,
in fact, we despise the word,
and if we ever come across it,
we surely will slay it,
together,
always and forever

We found something better,
something free without a master,
something that understands the age of time,
something stronger than love's fever,
each other,
always and forever

This little bird,
Only has one wing
Walks around on the ground,
And doesn't even sing
He only has one wing,
And he doesn't know a thing

He's a one winged bird,
He's smart  
        But he has a little heart            

All he knows, is what he sees
On the ground,
Between his knees,
Looking down on the ground
In the leaves

He's a one winged bird,
He's smart  
    But he has a little heart        

My love is unconditional,
If you do what I say
I love you sometimes,
If you love me every day
My love is unconditional,
But don't get in my way

I'm a one winged bird,
I'm smart  
But I have a little heart      

This little bird,
Only has one wing
Walks around on the ground,
And doesn't even sing
He only has one wing,
And he doesn't know a thing

Sean Hunt
  2015 Feb 12th Windermere

All this wasted time
Belongs to nobody
But I
All the feigned attempts
Served for nobody
But friends

It’s time for yet another session
To inform you about depression.
You may want to say “Just stop!”
Like a psychological traffic cop.
But as any of us who suffer say
“Pal, it just doesn’t work that way.”
This is not some social craze
And it certainly is not a phase.

It is something we suffer through
And you’re lucky if it isn’t you.
It’s worse than any story you read
To have a ***** fight in your head.
There are no praises you can sing.
Something is wrong with everything.
Even the sunniest day looks gray
And you can’t see it another way.

For many of us, it’s a long sad story,
And maybe cerebral instead of gory.
Something has made our life tough.
Maybe we were never good enough,
Or that was the way it all seemed
Before our dreams began to scream.
We can seldom remember back so far
To discover where lie the scars.

There are times when things go well,
But most times it’s a personal hell.
You can’t take joy in the normal things
That might make other’s heart sing.
You find that you have given up hope
You feel you are at the end of your rope.
Sadly, while you sit and pull your hair.
You see you have gotten used to despair.

I know some of you that don’t suffer
This illness want to help a brother
Or sister come beyond this trauma.
But you can’t label our pain as drama.
What you can do to lend a hand to us
Is to listen to us and not abandon us.
What often works is a true confessional
In the hands of a well-trained professional.