The middle

I’ve narrowed my world so that it looks like a

neurone: a number of dendrites around

my home, connecting me, and the

axon, leading down to hell,

and in the middle an

inconspicuous

minute

dot –

me

.


This poem comes from inside a bout of depression, where there was only me and everything revolved around this me, this me being depressed and all this shit — you probably know what I’m talking about.

‘Cause when you’re depressed, it really feels like you’re in the middle of a dark, dark world. And it’s hard to see anything or anyone in this dark. I mean, it can be really dark.

And you stay in the middle. In a sense, you’re always in the middle, and always everything revolves around you.

But they there may come a time when a silhouette or two becomes visible in the dark. And slowly you begin to notice more of them. People like you. And things start to emerge from the dark, too. Each of them gets a shape, and some of them you even start to want.

They revolve around you, like they always do. And having them around you, you light up.

And the incredible thing is how the dark, dark world can then brighten and widen.

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Published by

mulan92

I'm an unprofessional writer, reader and translator. I'm also a walking, breathing and listening addict. And I love being all that.

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