The Depression Diary

The Depression Diary

A Poem by Elizabeth Fiske
"

A poem about a diary that saved my life...

"
A green cover stares back at me,
A forest of trees and misery.
Here we are again 
Dearest Diary.
Your words written in black and blue ink 
Haunt me,
Seeping through the cover 
Posses my mind;
Remind me,
Suicidal thoughts from the past.
Remind me,
The scars brought me to write you.
Remind me,
Death.
You hold inside yourself
A list of names 
Haunting my childhood,
Memories 
Of why I created you.
Secrets only I can know
Locked without a lock,
But with a promise of sanity
To all who see my face.
You understand me.
Your white pages
Hold love and patience
Found no where else;
No judgment.
In a way,
You were my savior
And eternal enemy.
Tell me,
Was I crazy?
Are your pages cursed
By me?
By fear?
By depression?
By thoughts of existing to die?
I remember
I named you
Scipio.
Scipio...
You held my dreams.
If this little girl can no longer find comfort in you,
The world is doomed to hell.
In between the lines
Lay promises of a better future,
Promises to my heroes,
Promises to the world.
I dreamed you would become an anthem
To every child without love,
To every child like me.
Secretly,
You are my strength;
You show me what I can fall into,
How effortless it is to fall victim
To giving up
On life.
You brought out the best in me
By making me the worst.
What human could do that?
The day I first wrote,
My life changed forever.
I'm no longer afraid of life's endeavors,
Of Strangeness,
Insanity,
Standing up for myself
And all that I am.
Never again:
Will I have to write in you,
Will I have to recreate you,
Will I have to destroy you.
And as the last page states:
"Dear Scipio,
 I'll never grow up or be happy with myself. I'm forever a child due to the lack of a childhood...I'm selfish for never pushing myself and drowning myself in the woe and tears of the past...I'm going to stand up for myself at my lowest level of self confidence; I will wave my banner to the world while it tries to find itself; I'll remember and remove myself, not forgive and forget; I'll find the people worth getting hurt for;...and I'll regain my red color and black spots, and fly over my rainbow to join the creatures of Underland..." 
While some is forgotten,
The words forever beat in my heart,
For every person I meet
And every soul I touch,
Could have another like you
Stashed away in their drawer. 
Sincerely,
The Dead Ladybug

© 2011 Elizabeth Fiske


Author's Note

Elizabeth Fiske
This poem is about a diary I have that I wrote in during my darkest hours(about 6-7 months) of depression when I was 12...I still have the diary stashed away in my desk drawer, and their isn't a day when I don't think about what could've happened to me if I hadn't discovered the things I discovered about myself through that diary...I urge everyone to keep a diary or journal...mine saved my life and made me who I am today.

My Review

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Featured Review

I value every piece of poetry and journal and quote by me EVER written whether I like them all personally or not, my diary MEANT to stay around. What lingers from the past depression inside the new as remnants, we need it to function, as you say yourself even. The darkest and deepest portrayal of hell is to be living without the feel of it. I did it for years and even right now I'm still not 100% away from it like I try to be. I strongly believe that people like us endure the worst beatings and for each time we stay tall through the struggles another tyrant wave comes in to burden because it can't stand the fact that the "dead" walk amongst the "normals." It's harder to fight against negative people upsetting you when already you're most deadly enemy is the voice inside your head talking. Here you are trying to love yourself, to like and tolerate yourself, and then you're juggling massive peer attacks on your character in question. You deserve the free time to focus on who you are and want to be without nosey outsiders pestering with no intention of helping you. Certain people have the audacity to wonder why we cling so often to our writing? It's our only real supportive community where the depressed find each other and raise up their spirits. They can send us to therapists in threats, make a joke out of the coping methods, but the entire ordeal says badly more about them than it does for us. Keep writing, keep dreaming, keep fighting to feel and come alive as one. Never give up that notebook marking suicide notes, scribble your learn. It is okay to be miserable at times because that is just life when you have to deal with mostly horrible things involving situations. As long as you realize at the end of each battle, that you are as I said, deserving of so much more and you reach for it, that's what matters, you matter, and you just have to keep on shining the brightest when everything tries to burn you out. Tell that story, who are you beneath the scars?

Posted 10 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

I used to keep a diary like this, too. I think I was around 11 or 12 when I was at my lowest also. When I look back, it makes me more grateful for life, knowing that I was once so unhappy and now everything has improved so much. I can relate to this.

Posted 10 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

This poem is amazing. I attempted keeping a diary a few times but I have the "bratty little sister" that likes to go through all of my things. I have one now, though I write in it as letters to my father. We don't have the strongest relationship, but it's a great way to express my anger towards him and everyone else. I love this poem. Going in my favorites.

Posted 10 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

I don't even know what to say about this poem other than wow.

Posted 10 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Very strong and powerful. Diarys/journals are a great keepsake, they can save lifes, they can also show who you used to be, so you can be proud of what you are now.

Posted 10 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

I value every piece of poetry and journal and quote by me EVER written whether I like them all personally or not, my diary MEANT to stay around. What lingers from the past depression inside the new as remnants, we need it to function, as you say yourself even. The darkest and deepest portrayal of hell is to be living without the feel of it. I did it for years and even right now I'm still not 100% away from it like I try to be. I strongly believe that people like us endure the worst beatings and for each time we stay tall through the struggles another tyrant wave comes in to burden because it can't stand the fact that the "dead" walk amongst the "normals." It's harder to fight against negative people upsetting you when already you're most deadly enemy is the voice inside your head talking. Here you are trying to love yourself, to like and tolerate yourself, and then you're juggling massive peer attacks on your character in question. You deserve the free time to focus on who you are and want to be without nosey outsiders pestering with no intention of helping you. Certain people have the audacity to wonder why we cling so often to our writing? It's our only real supportive community where the depressed find each other and raise up their spirits. They can send us to therapists in threats, make a joke out of the coping methods, but the entire ordeal says badly more about them than it does for us. Keep writing, keep dreaming, keep fighting to feel and come alive as one. Never give up that notebook marking suicide notes, scribble your learn. It is okay to be miserable at times because that is just life when you have to deal with mostly horrible things involving situations. As long as you realize at the end of each battle, that you are as I said, deserving of so much more and you reach for it, that's what matters, you matter, and you just have to keep on shining the brightest when everything tries to burn you out. Tell that story, who are you beneath the scars?

Posted 10 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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647 Views
6 Reviews
Shelved in 2 Libraries
Added on May 22, 2011
Last Updated on May 22, 2011
Tags: death, hate, alone, suicide, poems

Author

Elizabeth Fiske
Elizabeth Fiske

Monroe, NH



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First things first: I don't care if your male, female, black, white, Asian, gay, lesbian, trans-gender, straight, overweight, skinny, tall, short, Christian, Muslim, Jewish, etc. I respec.. more..

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