it started with a message
an old classmate hospitalized
and a request for cards and kind words
I remembered him
vaguely
from middle school me in Kentucky
half a lifetime ago
they said he tried to kill himself
said he was in a coma three weeks and counting
said it wasn’t looking good
I offered to write him
one almost stranger to another
if my words could help build up the pile of kindling
until it became enough fuel to rekindle his fire
the will to live again
his mother asked who I was
why I wanted to be in the know
I understood her caution
the way tragedy attracts those
who like to watch drama unfold
to poke at fresh wounds until they bleed again
I don’t blame her
questioning my desire to write her son a letter
how do I tell her
that he is not my friend
that we have not been friends for years
that we are soldiers in the same fight
struggling against depression and its suicidal end game
how do I tell her that those fighting hardest
live closest to the battlefield
that they wear wounds more often
as the enemy strikes back
there is no weakness in his fall
only a lost battle in a long war
I want him to know that his fight isn’t over
that there will be other battles
but he will never stand alone on the front lines
because I’ve been there
in the place where the desire to live
is dampened
by the desire to not have to fight anything anymore
I may not be a friend
but we are veterans of the same war
still fighting to survive
and so I want to write him a letter
as a salute to his bravery
;
Tag: Mental Illness
posts that reference neurodivergence, such as depression, anxiety, and ADHD
to suicide ; [poem]
you are a greedy needy mouth
hungry for the bodies of those who fight the hardest
they get called weak
when you swallow them whole
their heartbeats stilled in your shrill silence
and you are no friend
no helping hand
instead you are the firing squad
and the wall
and the bullets traveling through the air
between the guns and the flesh
and you are a thief
stealing time from tickling time bomb hearts
and unwinding unwound clocks
over and over
you dig into the jaws of depression
and pluck out the victims you like best
from between its teeth
I can only pray for your failure
this time
the next time
every single time
;
stray [poem]
I shy away from strangers
love
I might have even shied away from you by now
I just can’t help it
this desire to avoid the inevitable
to remain separate
but friendly
like the stray cat in the neighborhood
that all the kids pet
the one that finds an unlocked shed when it rains
rather than accepting a collar
and the promise of shelter that comes with it
darling
I’m a bit feral now
untouched and skittish over the strangest things
like too nice words
and warm hugs
I prefer to slink around the edges
rather than marching through the thick of things
avoidance at its best
and this
this is why I’m not sure how we’ll meet
on loving you when you’re hurting [poem]
let me hold you in my heart
love
shelter you from the storm of your own trauma
until you’re ready to face the thunder again
let me pick up the slack
I’ll help you carry the heavy burden
of your aching soul
as far as you need to take it
because I get it
love
the reason you can’t always accept
kind words or a soft touch
when the bitter hollowness inside
screams that you deserve to be empty
it’s hard not to listen
let me give you space too
love
a silent room to be alone in
but not lonely
I can stand outside your door
until you’re ready to open it again
I have the time
love
and I’m happy to give it to you
festering [poem]
I’ve written poems
in the blood of fresh wounds
smearing my pain into art for everyone to see
it’s how I cope
it can’t be too bad
if I’m still telling it to strangers
right?
but then I stall out sometimes
write something just as
red and honest and painful as usual
but I can’t let anyone see
can’t bring myself to put that little piece of pain
out into the open
those are the wounds that fester
oozing poetry if pressed
but mostly just causing discomfort
in some deeply damaged part of my psyche
it’s (not) okay [poem]
I hate the words I’m sorry
hate the instinct to reply it’s okay even when it’s not
this learned behavior
an impossible habit to break
I bumped into you because I’m in a hurry
and I wasn’t looking where I was going
I’m sorry
it’s okay
I took the last cookie
even though you said you wanted it
because you snooze you lose this time
I’m sorry
it’s okay
I heard they passed over you at work again
I would’ve bet on them choosing you over that new guy this time
I’m sorry
it’s okay
I just found out about your grandpa yesterday
they told me you were out for his funeral last weekend
I’m sorry
it’s okay
I can’t do this anymore
you’re too needy and I’d like to say it’s not you
but it kind of is
I’m sorry
it’s okay
I just don’t love you anymore
I’m moving in with my brother down south
so I guess you can keep the apartment
I’m sorry
it’s okay
but it’s not really okay
I’m not okay
it’s so hard to vocalize it though
to push through the clog in my throat and make you listen
I can’t accept your half-assed platitudes
your insincere apologies
your bullshit
I’m sorry
is that okay?
I’m sorry / it’s okay [poem]
I hate the words I’m sorry
hate the instinctive it’s okay in reply
even when it’s not
I’m sorry I bumped you
it’s okay
I’m sorry I took the last cookie
it’s okay
I’m sorry to hear they passed you over at work
it’s okay
I’m sorry about your grandpa
it’s okay
I’m sorry but I can’t do this anymore
it’s okay
I’m sorry but I just don’t love you anymore
it’s okay
it’s not okay
I’m not okay
it’s hard to vocalize it though
to stand up and say I won’t take it
I can’t take it
please don’t make me take it
anymore
storyteller’s sin [poem]
I keep writing you poetry
explanations and warnings and wishes
scribbled into being
with carefully cultivated words
be clever love
consider this my smoke screen
a diversionary tactic with extreme success
you know
I’ve always used my own mythology to hide myself
history waving a red flag to catch your eye
I will gorge you on my past
until you’re too full of the stories to think
of any deeper questions to ask
you’ll know the shadows that haunted me a decade ago
but you won’t know my present struggles if I have any say
it’s the storyteller’s sin
hiding truths beneath truths in an elaborate attempt
to be your well known mystery
it takes a special kind of focus to study my memories
and come out familiar with my heart
depression is like asthma [poem]
asthma is the perfect metaphor
for living with depression
your body is not your body
but betrayer
uncontrolled mutiny of a thing
your lungs pretend to function
breathe in
breathe out
but the oxygen isn’t entering your bloodstream
you are suffocating
even as you continue to inhale lungfuls
of unreachable hope
the rest of your body goes into a wild panic
flight or fight
because you feel like you’re dying slowly
you feel like dying
slowly
medications can help
sometimes
forcing a clearing of internal gunk and tubes
until breathing returns to almost normal
oxygen feeding into trembling flesh
as an apology without meaning
because this is not the first asthma attack
it will not be the last one
it takes a stubborn persistence
and a formidable will
to keep going when an attack hits
to not lie down and wish away
all this
depression is the battered lungs
and the tired body begging them for air
check engine light [poem]
I’ve never been much of a car person
never really understood much about the insides
beyond the basics
I can check the oil level
top it off as needed
but there’s something familiar between
taking care of my car’s problems
and taking care of myself
the check engine light flashes
and I startle
where did this come from
this random kick and stutter of the entire body
I take it to a mechanic
get the codes read to find out
the designated problem and solution
but it’s never that easy
my car gives vague explanations
hints at a cylinder misfire
but doesn’t tell us why
what’s wrong
what does it need to be corrected
trying to fix my car’s problem
is just like trying to fix my depression
I’m fine
functioning normally for long periods
when suddenly I’m sad
melancholy
I look for a trigger
and find nothing different from before the crash
I look for a solution
but there’s no magic cure for my heart’s misfire
so I sputter forward
hoping things will even out on their own
and the check engine light will stop flickering
life as an apology [poem]
I haven’t taken an unapologetic breath
since learning the words
I’m sorry
since learning
how to soften the edges of my strangeness
to make myself more palatable
more normal
you can hear it in the way
I frame rhetorical questions when doing things for myself
asking if I have the right
to make a decision based on my own needs
the answers is yes
it’s always yes
but I ask anyway
uncertainty a stifling pressure on my chest
even in the moments when I’m living
loud and proud and open
I find myself trying to be loud quietly
unable to stop myself from apologizing
for being so alive
silence [poem]
I hope you like silence
love
that the lack of conversation doesn’t
twist your stomach into knots
that you don’t expect our interactions
to always come with the volume turned way up
loving me will often require stillness
eyes glued to words from the latest story
I’ve dug myself into
I hope you can love me then
in the absent moments
when I am there
but not there in the room with you
I hope you know how to handle the emptiness
until I come back surfacing for air
your quiet presence
the only thing to ground me back into this world
this reality
if I cry, run [poem]
they say that love means being there to witness
the laughter and the tears
but know this
I express my pain in
careful keystrokes and clever syntax
I can hand you poetry and prose to fill a library
with my hurts and happiness
you can read my heart in my words
nothing hidden or buried in my open honesty
but I do not simply cry
so if you’re seeing me red eyed and sobbing
it is no gift
no sign of trust
my tears are no cleansing rain
no holy water salvation
granting you entry into my inner temple
they are hurt
they are hurt
they are gut wrenching pain
if you see me cry
you are watching a disaster in action
you’re just an innocent bystander at ground zero
my tears the toxic fallout
after an atomic bomb hits my heart dead center
it leaves my feelings raw and radioactive
too dangerous for anyone to touch
if you witness my destruction
I strongly suggest
you run
Larissa Lee 