Alive, Almost

A poem I wrote this summer. Yay, depression!

I'm alive

In some strange sense of the word

Meaning that my self-destructive tendencies haven't quite overpowered

The grace of my God

I'm sick

And have been for a while now

Choking and unable to breathe. Adding to the misery

While a small voice in my head whispers that this is just what I deserve

After all,

I'm broken

Beyond repair

A mess of plans gone wrong and a disaster waiting to happen

I'm trapped

As the things I loved and the things I wished for and dreamed of came within my grasp

And then quietly slipped away.

All the while,

I'm struggling

To put aside these thoughts

Of glittering knives and speeding cars and venomous snakes

Whispering to me of easy ends

I'm helpless

Watching the people I love cry from things I have said

and being completely unable to fix it.

Unable to make them understand

I'm trying

My hardest to remember that even in this nightmare, even when it seems that all is lost and the daylight will never come

My God is in control.

I'm repeating

To myself what I'm trying to see as true:

This will not destroy me, He has not forgotten me, and

In spite of me,

All will be well again.