The Crash (A Hate Poem for Depression)

The Crash is The Crash because it hits you.  Hard.

The Crash laughs at you for thinking everything would be okay. “When has it ever been okay?  When have you ever been okay?”

The Crash wakes you up exhausted after a full night’s sleep.  Keeps you up at night.  Turns your stomach.  Takes your breath.

The Crash begs you to stay inside.  “You’re too weak to make it through the day.  You can’t even get out of this bed.”

Sometimes, The Crash wins.  You stay.  Cry.  Dry your tears. Cry. Just…cry. 

Sometimes, you can’t (won’t) stay.  You get up because you have to, need to.

The Crash vows to destroy your day anyway.  

The Crash ruins your makeup before you finish putting it on, keeps a gleeful tally of how many times you cover the tracks of tears on your cheeks.

The Crash brings you to tears anywhere:  walking into work, in the produce section of the grocery store, on a treadmill at the gym.  The Crash hopes no one notices and smirks when they don’t.  “When has anyone ever noticed you?”

The Crash mocks the brave face you put on. Chuckles when you say, text, think, “I’m fine.” “You just keep on wearing that fake smile, girl. You may fool them, but you won’t fool me.”

You work through it. You always do. But…

The Crash always happens again. 

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