Sometimes, the monster in my head visits for tea.
It folds itself into one of the smallest sofas
in my living room, its darkness looming
so large even the shadows run away.
It holds the teacup awkwardly in its claws,
Tells me not to mind its presence,
But its hard when every time the monster calls,
I turn into a shell of myself, living a pretense.
It follows me around from room to room,
quietly draining all the light in my life.
It trails abysses wherever it goes
destroying happiness at its sight.
It numbs every compliment with an insult
and turns every smile into a frown.
it tries to convince me that life is not worth living
and finds a thousand little ways to bring me down.
And on the days I must light candles
because its presence is beginning to drown me out,
I think of all the people who battle monsters like this
everyday and live through this deepening drought.
We all find ways to survive depression,
Even when the dark is so stifling we cannot breathe,
We turn into warriors in endless battles,
Carry invisible swords in invisible sheathes.
So I rename the monster in my head the ocean,
to understand it better when it visits again
I call the unease of its darkness a storm,
because at least I know that storms come to an end.
