such a foreign concept.
After six months of feeling dead,
feeling alive messes with your head.
You genuinely smile,
you laugh with all your soul,
you sing along to the mindless songs on the radio.
You should feel free,
but it just feels fake.
You’re kinda like an ex
heartbroken over their past lover,
endlessly wanting them to take you back
because feeling dead became comfortable,
and this feeling of life is nearly intolerable.
The contrast is odd.
You don’t know what to do,
so you relive the months
when you despaired over how you lost yourself
and became half a person.
Eventually that half became enough,
so you adapted.
But now you’re here again,
your identity wrecked.
It makes you weak.
You wanna cry,
but instead you fuel your desire
to feel dead
when you’re here,
and heart beating.
"I wrote this poem shortly after a long battle with depression. I was in a rough mental state, and I just wanted to write how I felt on a piece of paper. Writing this poem was extremely therapeutic for me, and I hope others can relate to it." - Sara Kaplin, 10th grade, Spring Lake Park High School.