Reflecting on Depression: A Saga Sprinkled With Some Mediocre Poetry

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Reflecting on Depression: A Saga Sprinkled With Some Mediocre Poetry

Photo Courtesy of Annika Larson

Photo Courtesy of Annika Larson

Photo Courtesy of Annika Larson

Annika Larson, Deputy Editor, Commentary

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I have been dealing with clinical depression since the second grade, but after losing one of closest friends, Brooklyn Short, at the beginning of freshman year, my struggle with mental illness took a drastic turn for the worse. I lost all medication, and the classes I already struggled with became impossible. My life fell further and further from what I thought it was supposed to look like. As I struggled with suicidal ideation and self-harm, I found my solace in literature. Reading and writing, especially poetry, helped me to express how I was feeling. It became an escape from my dark reality. Junior year hit me hard, but after partial hospitalization at Prairie Care, I slowly began to improve. I learned skills there that changed the way I dealt with my emotions and communicated with my support network.

As a senior, reflecting on the poetry I wrote is an emotional experience to say the least. I don’t like thinking about the place I was in, but I’m not gonna lie, I don’t think what I wrote is half bad. So I figured I’d share it. In my experience, hearing other people’s stories has been astronomically helpful. I’m reminded that I’m not alone, that there is hope. So enjoy some blurbs from my past.

 

Alabaster white

No vibrance. Nothing real. Just

a silent white box

 

Dead men tell no tales

If they did, what would they say?

“You won’t regret it”.

 

I never asked for

anything but an escape.

Not the way it works.

 

I am surrounded

Black static embraces me.

It won’t go away

 

It shrinks up your lips

It stings like dust in your throat

Spit while you still can

 

process or topic.

clockwise or counterclockwise.

sorry, no fidgets

 

The clock ticks. Humming

Semicircle window frame

Too numb to think straight

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