Depression is not a storm

A Poem by Christine Lundberg

I read a poem a while back describing that depression was a storm, and I don't know if I completely agree with that.

Depression is not a storm.

Instead, it is like a flooding in your house.

One long day, you come home to a darker home.

All the electricity is out, you have no more energy.

But you keep on going through life, because you don't want to give up just yet.

So you ignore the fact that the house is a bit moist,

like a warning.

But then it starts gushing in,

Getting your shoes wet,

Ruining the floors.

It rises even more, and you don't even know where the flooding is coming from,

Because you look outside, and all the other houses look fine,

So when others called you up over the phone, you would tell them that you were fine, too.

Because you didn't want to have to try and explain something that was impossible to explain.

The sun is shining bright outside, and yet, all this water is rushing into your house.

The water begins to get up to your knees,

And you try to get out of your house,

But when you try to open the front door,

It's stuck.

Some people try the back door, and the water begins to rise up to their waist.

Some people try to get out the window, and the water rises up to their chest.

Some people have stairs.

Places to hide from the flood until it comes.

So they go upstairs for a long time,

Looking at all the other houses outside and feeling like one of them again,

Thinking they've escaped the flood.

But then out of no where,

The water swallows them whole,

And just when they thought they were out,

They were dragged back in, further than before.

Some people decided to wallow in the water, waiting for someone to install a drain.

Some people decided to try once more to get out.

Some people tried to ask for help, but they knew that no one else could help.

Suddenly, it's been months or even years since they've experienced the outside world,

And they begin to feel that they will never be normal again.

And just by looking at the window, they can feel their tears, but can't cry

because they're already underwater.

Some people can't survive it. Some just let themselves drown, thinking they were all alone, that no one else could stop the pain but themselves.
Thinking that they didn't deserve to be alive, because they were being punished in this way.

But deep inside, everyone knew that the only way out was within them.

That nothing else was the source of the flood anymore except themselves,

That they were over whatever had happened so long ago, and now, it was just them, eating themselves alive.

Some people realize this, and suddenly, everything around them is changing.

The water is draining faster than it flooded,

The other houses look damaged and old,

And they realize that they were not the only ones who were feeling this.

And so they try the front door once more,

And it opens to a brighter, more colorful world than before the flood.

So every time they pass by a house that is being flooded,

They try to help them, show them why it's just so simple.

But after a while, they give up, because they can't seem to help at all

So they leave all the other flooded houses alone,

And start on their own life again,

Waiting for the people in the flooded houses to come out

and experience a wonderful life.

© 2015 Christine Lundberg

Author's Note

Maybe its not a poem but what do you think, suggestions, likes, dislikes?

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Rarkit

... Okay there was some kind of glitch in the system, for the past few days this account has been mine... but then I signed in again and now I'm on my actual account.... That's a little weird...