my frenemy, depression

Depression tells me I’m so small, and my problems are so big

Depression reminds me, on the days that I’m feeling bigger, that I’m still smaller than my problems, or that it’s just a fluke, or that it won’t last

Depression tells me, that other people’s depressions are workable, because they are better and prettier and better and more worthy

Depression makes it hard to wake up each day, and when I’m too sad to get anything done, it reminds me “you’re not good for anything”

Depression momentarily subsides when I go to therapy, the one place I have hope, making it harder and more confusing for my therapist to intervene

Depression is always there for me when I am feeling my worst

And it’s waiting for me, around the corner, when I am feeling my best

Depression offers me ideas for escape; it knows how to console me with them

But mostly it’s like “you’re stuck with me. sorry not sorry”