The Cancer.

The Cancer

Victoria Jerde

 

My day has been for the most part well,

Then again depression eats away at every happy thought.

I go through this battle every day.

Almost every time, I’m the one on the ground.

The work overload eats me whole.

Digging my way out to just catch one breath.

I’m always sucked back down,

In a pile of anxiety,

In a pile of self doubt.

And I just lie there.

Too tired to pick myself back up.

Too tired to try and grasp the light.

And don’t forget about the voices.

Because they will never let it slip your mind.

They fill you with, “you’re not good enough.”

“You need this to look okay.”

“Your life is worthless.”

“You don’t deserve to be here.”

And you believe it because if it’s your own mind saying it.

Why would it lie to you, right?

Right?

No.

Yes.

No.

No always wins.

It’s like pulling a joke on the Joker.

He invented it.

Then, when I lose the war I just want to scream.

I want to scream at myself for believing it.

But my heart and my head are at each other’s throats.

And it’s slowing overtaking me.

Until all that rings in my mind are negative thoughts.

Which is the cancer to any self love you thought you had.

This three year battle has been exhausting.

I’ve been ripped apart like a useless piece of paper.

And blown away into the air without a care.

I want it to go away.

I want to be done with it.

I want it to be gone.

Vanished from my spiralling life.

I want to be able to pick up my shattered pieces.

And glue them back together.

Maybe then I’ll feel just a little more whole.

A little more complete.

A little more alive.

But, until then,

My day’s like this will just repeat.

And repeat.

And repeat.