Party

One of the worst things you can tell me
is I am fine because
I look so happy.
Happy is an emotion that does not register
in my brain anymore.
Smiles no longer com easy.
When they put me on Asendin
there was no need for sleep anymore.
I woke up before the sun came out
and smiled at everyone I passed for no reason.
I know that wasn’t me,
it was the drugs talking.
It was always the drugs.
Now that I’m off Asendin,
my bed has become a black hole
I cannot climb out of.
A makeshift safe haven I have built for myself.
The only place I feel safe anymore.
I’m not sure how much longer I can do this.
Not sure how much more I can take.
The once distant city of grey has become my home again.
A city I had never wanted to be a citizen in anyway.
Depression came to my house sometime ago.
An unwanted guest that invited herself in and made herself
comfortable on a couch she created in the unfurnished house
that was my mind.
She then invited some of her friends and they had a party.
Bringing furniture,
housing problems I never wanted in the first place.
A party in my own body that I was the wallflower in.
I sat idly in the corner too scared to tell them to leave.
At night they party hard,
keeping me up,
contemplating life when I should be sleeping.
The morning after,
 I am exhausted.
10 pound chains weigh down my chest.
I did not ask for this.
I did not want this.
“Just stop,” they tell me. “Just be happy.”
I cannot just do anything when all I’ve ever done is pretend
my sadness fears my sleep and when I close my eyes,
it will have left me,
You see, I do not know how to live without them.
I hide behind fake smiles and pray nobody’s smart enough
to look between the forced laughs and long sleeves.
I know it’s pathetic.
I’m sorry.