Sanity

By , Chickasha, OK
My body is a lump of heavy material curled on the bed like a giant roly-poly scared to face the world. The cold world. My body tingles with chill despite the two shirts, thick jacket, fuzzy blanket, and comforter envelopping me in a cocoon of supposed warmth. My hands are so cold they don't even tingle anymore. they merely sit wrapped in blanket folds, tucked against my quivering body, two lumps of ice that refuse to melt.

My mouth smooths into the frown as my eyes scrunch up and sobs threaten to burst out with tears for an unknown cause. Baby's are not cute when they cry. And neither am I.

I feel and don't feel everything multiplied by a thousand. I am so emotionally drained that I physically hurt, and I do not know why. Just this morning I was excited about the art festival at the local college campus, prom this weekend, dyeing my hair purple (again), caramel cappacino. . . Now these hold no pleasure, and there is no reason for this change.

I barely find energy to write these sluggish thoughts as they drip through my devastated mind. All I want to do is to curl into my imperfect cocoon and hibernate until I can emerge as the butterfly I was just yesterday. I wonder how long this episode will last, hopefully not forever, but who knows? All I want is to be alone, but I know I shouldn't be. I don't want to cast this shadow on anyone else's day, but I need an untainted shoulder to release the threatened tears onto. If I can. I don't even think I really have the energy to cry right now.

I float in a sea of hopelessness. The "Sanity" has struck an iceberg. The unsinkable is slowly going under, and I am left freezing in the water. Without even a lifevest to keep me afloat, or a deadman's whistle to guide help to me.

Depression is an ugly place to be, and so many don't know the reality of it. "It's all in your head," they say. And the irony is, they're right. But it is also in my body, in my heart, and in my soul. It is not always there, but when it comes, nothing is the same. I am not me. They constantly tell me to "snap out of it." And I merely look at them, wishing that I could.





Join the Discussion

This article has 1 comment. Post your own now!

Hay_Wire This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Aug. 13, 2009 at 12:19 am
im sorry. it hurts. it can get better
 
bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback