Depression On. Reality Off.

My echo catered a banquet of tenebrous, sinful lies.

An eternity spent mounding filth atop my soul.

With uncertainty, I ventured into mystery.

Everything seemed fresh, extrinsic, and queer.

Gravity reversed.

I opened myself, exposed my heart.

You elucidated my Cimmerian shade.

I extended my hand out to you, only to caress desolation.

The distance between us became crowded with seclusion.

Am I obtuse for thinking you would be antithetical?

Disconcerted at the possibility we would be an us?

I digest abandonment and humility.

My eyes seal shut and I curse my existence.

Slithering back into my shell, I flip the switch:

Depression on. Reality off.

A struggle with my self-image and how it feels to open your heart to someone only to be shot down.