What Depression Feels Like To Me…

By Surabhi Kaushik

I feel like I'm riding a paper boat in the sea,

Like there's a shadow I must flee,

Like everything is blurry,

Like your mother looking at you with worry, 

Like my brain weighs a ton,

Like I can't end what was begun,

Like I'm looking at myself through a veil,

Like it's all I can do to not fall and flail,

Like an apology I almost muttered,

Like a prayer I wish I'd uttered,

Like an unfinished puzzle,

Like a perpetual bubble, 

Like an unending maze,

Like mornings with haze,

Like sleeping listlessly, 

Like sitting still restlessly,

Like waking up spent,

Like a text unsent,

Like accolades that are meaningless,

Like a love that's feelingless,

Like struggling to find words,

Like crawling to catch birds,

Like joking to hide the tears,

Like tomorrow will take years,

Like groping in the dark,

Like missing the mark,

Like an unnatural occurence,

Like everything is happening all at once. 

Pop a pill, paste a smile,

Only focus on the next mile.

Works well since uncertainty is at play,

I lost sight of the destination long ago anyway. 

The only light at the end of the tunnel

Is the glint in his eyes,

But I wish it was a mirror with a smile,

And I wasn't in disguise. 

You might have noticed that I said “the glint in HIS eyes” right? Well HE is a guy I used to like. A lot, really. 

He smelled of old paper and ink,

Nightingale who could play my heartstrings. 

First facsimile is fancy, frenzy and fever

Enough to instill theism in a disbeliever. 

Perceptive, prodigal, adulatory, unattainable.

Attention is praise and allure unbelievable.

It's new,

It's electric.

I'm young,

He's eclectic. 

He speaks of revolution in a blanket that smells of home,

Cups of cardamom tea like Imperium before Rome.

Smoke and mirrors can't hide a wildfire

Reverence, romance and thoughtless desire. 

Clawmarks on my back and galaxies in my eyes,

But the scented candle gave out before I realised. 

It's bliss,

It's not.

It's hell,

It's hot.

Compromise and conceit make a bid

He was schrödinger's cat and I lifted the lid.

Thinks I'm wrapped around his finger? 

Well, that might have been true.  

Could Sherlock ever outwit Miss Adler?

This poem's the clue. 

Basically kat gaya guys. Katna hi tha. The reason why it didn’t work out with him is that he didn’t take my depression seriously. In fact he made me feel so terrible about myself I ended up doubting if what I was going through was even valid. I know, a complete asshole right? But in a way it was good for me. Because I realised- 

I may try to wash myself grey, 

To blend in with the rainy day,

But I am not sleet, I'm fire from within. 

And when I fan it, I feel the flames grin. 

My thoughts are cacophony, too swift to be called chatter. 

But between being happy or being myself, I'd always choose the latter. 

By Surabhi Kaushik