The hardest thing I had to do tonight
was to turn away from the needle
and crawl into my soft, warm bed instead

I understand now that I desperately want
to be special

The desire crawls under my skin
to see myself as smarter than others, with better morals, with natural talent for everything I try
shivering it away, it sickens me as much as it soothes
my hollow, childish soul

In a flash, the thought has me petrified
I will die and nothing I can do will mean anything
It attacks and I know
I will never be enough because I am not
special

Maybe that's all the depression is
it slithers around me, slowly suffocating any hope to breathe
mesmerizing me with feelings of uniqueness
you are a sufferer it tells me
and I turn, a passive participant to its ritual

I want to be special
to be loved
and before you tell me that I am, that there's someone here who cares
I know
but I want to be loved by myself

I want what little I am to be enough for myself

The clear glass puddles ripple with morning light
The river rushes fast and dizzying under the bridge
And iridescent drops hover from the trees

Somehow, even the air tastes different
Though it is the same school yard air it always is
It tastes adventurous, mysterious
Tastes like a promise that today will be different

It tastes like a place I imagined once
The wind carrying the scent of the story before it starts,
and I remember that even fairy tale characters have history to learn

I stand under the rain and pull the hood from my face
letting it pound into my eyes until it blurs everything I see

The rain, reminding me once again of how to dream

It was raining –as it is wont to do
in Autumn. Drenched, in search for refuge
I wandered streetlamp lit Madrid with you
with closed umbrellas. We liked the deluge,
and our hands were warming up each other.
The city quiet started to settle
closing in, shivering – so we smothered
ourselves inside, clinging and dishevelled,
the only open café, laughing when
you spilt your tea and then your lips on mine.
We were laughing still when the drunkards spent
our time, hostages drunk with no wine.
It was raining when I left, early dawn
and raining when I saw you, smiling on.