The Twins

I am so tired.

My mind, my body, my psyche

has been so stretched and worn as of late.

My emotions endured much turmoil

all while maintaining the guise of indifference, professionalism, and respectfulness.

My emotional strength is giving out.

The throes of a depressive episode linger on the edges of my brain.

They sing that oh familiar song

the sweet embrace of darkness

and the strange fulfillment of allowing the shadows to become a part of my identity once more.

Cinnamon Girl and Video Games to Dealer

on repeat as I stare into the abyss above, my blank ceiling.

Listening to the sounds of another’s suffering

I feel a sense of community in that shared experience.

As I finally allow myself to let go of that feigned strength I use as my shield

and mask against the world.

To let the mask fall

to finally let go of that breath I’ve been holding in

and just to be…

suffering.

It’s a euphoric feeling in some odd way.

To not have to battle the shadows

to welcome them rather than bade them off with everything I have. 

Then the manic comes.

The part that can’t sit in silence or lie down.

The mania scratches and claws at me from beneath my skin.

She screams over and over and over

“I think I’m going fucking crazy!” “I feel like I’m losing my mind!!”

She cowers under the crushing weight of that familiar depression.

She can’t handle it.

She is the one who is willing to do anything to escape that pressure.

That responsibility.

She does not welcome the depression

she runs, she screams, she cries in fear, not in sadness

she backs into a cowardly corner like a scared little girl.

Unable to do anything but hold her shaking limbs as she sobs and asks

“Why? Why? Why? Why?”

Why must she feel so much?

Why must she think so much?

Why can’t she be normal?

Why can’t she escape and be free?

Why must one part of her welcome the darkness as an old friend?

She looks in horror as tears rush down her cheeks

at that other part of her who is smiling slightly, shaking hands with the enemy

before they both turn to her

a sinister smile on depression’s face and a hand extended from herself to herself.

Her breath feels impossibly sharp in her quick lungs

the darkness is drifting closer and closer.

She screams in horror once again

just as she is swallowed up

“Why? Why? Why?!”