The Alien Within

It affects my dignity

It affects my confidence
It affects my judgment
It affects my breath
It affects my sleep

It affects my sanity

It affects my energy
It affects my virility
It affects my behaviour
It affects my sociability

It affects my language

It affects my courage
It affects my liberty
It affects my hopes

It affects how I love
It affects the ones I love

It affects my pursuit of happiness
It denies me a Right
It affects my laugh
It veils my joys

It affects my dignity

It is pervasive, sneaky, rampant
It is always there
It is my disease

I want to spell out loud and clear to the World that
MY NAME IS , and my disease is depression.
Only maybe spelling it out will make of my disease something - a thing - outside of me.
Something. Concrete.
I want this magic to happen.

It affects who I am.
It is intertwined with me
It claims me

I want to rip it off, plunge my hand into my chest, have a grab on this bloody thing and
throw it away from me.
Something. Outside of me.
Exhale it, sweat it, bleed it, put it out, once and for all, IT IS NOT ME.

But it is. Me.

I can’t stand this anymore.
This is not how I want to speak.
Not spoken of.
Not loved.
It is killing me.