the only words

depression. depression. depression. depression.

when the hot water in the shower fails to feel hot on my skin.

when the hunger in my stomach is a welcome sensation.

when my eyes burn with the need for sleep.

when nothing gets done. over and over. and over and over.

when thoughts compound on thoughts and weigh my body down.

when the only time i feel like smiling is at work, when it’s fake, when i say hello and what would you like to drink?

when thoughts of the future, the uncertainty, the imminent change required, needed, is the ONE thought taking up space, all space, in my mind.

when applications lay unfinished, books unpublished, scripts half-dead.

when these are the only words i can write.

that’s when i realize i am depressed.

it comes and goes. october seems to bring it more often than not. the good and the bad and the everything become one singular thing, indiscernible objects heaped on one another like the dead leaves laying at the roots of forgotten trees. brown, yellow, red, slightly green on the edges.

have i ever been so certainly uncertain about what i am doing? yes. that’s why hope is present, in the smallest form, somewhere down the long hallway hope peaks out from underneath the door, hope dimly lives in that crack between the floor and the bottom of the door. breathes, but only softly. quietly. waiting. one foot in front of the other until i reach that door. the door knob cool, refreshing, alive. behind it, dreams. bright and eternal. almost blinding.

depression, precursor to creative expression. a biannual event in an empty conference room. one chair and a thousand mirrors. no microphone.

when these are the only words i can write.

~ by kevinthomas on October 16, 2007.