A Poem I Wrote Made Me Cry

So, yesterday was rough. It seemed like sadness, anger, fear, and apathy gifted to be, nicely wrapped up, by my depression. I was feeling overwhelmed and finally, at 10pm, I decided to write it out, poem style. After reading it over the phone to my sister I started crying. I guess it really hit the nail on the head, so to speak, in as far as how I was feeling.

Waiting for the World to Become Real Again

You can’t know.

This knot between my ribs,
in my gut or in my chest
—or everywhere all at once—
it grows.

With every passing moment,
agonizing thoughts
slip between an inwardly violent anger,
crushing hopelessness,
paralyzing fear,
and lethargic apathy.
I withdraw from the world.

With every passing moment
I fall farther away from what it means to be “okay”
—what does that word mean, anyway?—
Ambitions falter, flickering
like a candle flame in the breeze,
soon to be snuffed out,
smoke swept away
until darkness remains.

With every passing moment
I’m lost
deeper and deeper into a night
that seems to have no end in sight.
Unable to make out shapes or sounds,
breathing becomes laborious, then panicked.

In this moment I sink to my knees.
I shift to sitting then laying down on my stomach,
pressing my cheek against this cold ground,
the only piece of reality I have left.
I spread my arms out, clinging to the earth.
Eyes shut or open, it doesn’t matter,
and I wait.

I wait for the world to become real again.

©2016 Melissa McLaughlin
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