Exhausted Angel

Depression

“Just choose to be happy,” you said,
“that’s all there is to it.”
But that idea won’t live in my head,
’cause my brain is washed in shit.

“It’s a chemical thing, you see,” they say.
It’s a medical issue; that’s granted.
For people like me, there’s really no way
to simply “bloom where you are planted.”

I know I’m no fun when my attitude’s crappy,
and I know you want to go dancing.
But it takes lots of work, this fa├žade that looks happy,
and, frankly, it’s fucking exhausting!

One day a week I can fake a few hours;
One day a week I can smile.
But that, my dear, is the extent of my powers;
I can only pretend for a while.

So leave me alone; give me some solitude.
Don’t hold me tight; let me be.
Please believe that I don’t want to be rude;
I just want to go back to sleep.

– by C Eric Funston, 13 September 2014