I haven’t been myself again. I think my friends are starting to notice. I was once told that I am a “master of emotional disguise”. Brianne gave me that title three summers ago and I almost believed her. I guess I’ve always realized the sadness in everything- saw it’s ugly colors soak through lovely moments that turned out being not-so-lovely. Maybe that’s the irony in it all.

I drive through side streets that I deem sacred. Everyone else weaves through the paved latticework like a habit, but I see the crumbling cement turn to glitter each time. I’m not sure why this is the only thing that soothes me. I know when my depression is setting in- it feels like a storm waking up for the main event. Wide eyed and hungry for the lungs behind my rib cage to open. I can’t help but crack through the barrier and let it in for a little while .

The dust in the corners of my room grow. Nicole calls me and says I sound distant – I tell her I’m only a few miles up the road. I hear her roll her eyes over the phone in between the silence. I let that stillness linger as I hang up. I haven’t showered in days and my hair is falling out- is this really how I’m meant to cope? I guess the answer doesn’t matter when your mind and body betray each other. Such a sticky act of deceit. I wish one would surrender already.

I’ve slept non stop because I’m dreaming about my dad again. And even though each dream turns into a nightmare, I’m glad I get to say hello. I pile myself in blankets and books I don’t read and poems I can’t bring myself to write and phone calls I don’t answer and dust I can’t clean off the floor. I feel heavier than ever and I don’t care to stand for too long because then the thoughts race to my head and dare me to collapse. Ready for war. I won’t be the first one to surrender. I sleep with my hands folded in the shape of a gun.

Later this week I’ll be celebrating Tyler’s birthday. He’s like a brother who I can’t stand but love endlessly. His smile is infectious and we all fall for the sickness every time. But this time around I feel useless- depleted of my resources and minimal efforts. I can’t bring myself to drink like how I used to because I’m afraid it will engulf me completely- watched it’s fangs grip my ancestors and feed off my kin. I think I once promised my father that I’d never give into it fully. Wish I knew why this time felt so different- so heavy. Watch the wind circle outside my window as those raindrops heave themselves against the glass. I wonder if it’ll ever get in.

I’m spending time alone, too. I think that’s a good thing. It’s like holding up a mirror without inspecting every inch of your reflection. Being able to look through yourself and understand what’s staring back- realizing the gravity of the boulders behind your eyes. I call it the power of one. Maybe that’s my way of excusing the blood rushing to my heart every time I wake up. Dried tears on the corners of my eyelids from sinking too far into a nightmare that was actually just a memory replaying in my sleep. Eating takeout on my hundred dollar sheets and letting my laundry crawl to the corners of my room. Neglecting myself. Ripping off fingernails in a methodical pattern. Ignoring everyone who ever decided to care. Keep telling myself, “You’ll feel better in a few seconds, I fucking promise”. Maybe this is the part of grief I’ve been ignoring. Maybe I was never more than the sadness after all. Maybe I’m just letting the rain in. AMT