Depression for me moonlights as vivid caution. It comes during a time when I'm most at home within myself, convinced I need to know all the ways in which I come short. It creeps in as ripple up my spine. It settles between my shoulder blades and presses in until my sternum cracks. It swallows you like a thick fog with daggers hiding inside the mist. I gasp for air while my chest is both wide open and sown shut. Depression comes as someone asking to be loved, as the last drop of gas before you run empty, as the favorite plate shattered on the kitchen floor. It recedes into the darkest spaces where a healing balm was just about to reach. It takes hold. It carries. I've learned trying to outrun this invasion only worsens the capture. So instead, I bow. And pray to see the sun after release.
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