The only poetry I can seem to write scares the shit out of me. Everything just flows into something darker, something that I didn't mean to develop, but it's there sifting inside of me. Dark lines and darker times. The worst was with the first medication. I never thought I would let myself go back to sophomore year, but the feelings came back with every pill I took to ease the physical pain. It's not as bad without the first medication, but it shouldn't still be here. It feels so secretively dangerous. Like it'll strangle me in my sleep. Like I'm tangled in the sheets. I'm not sure it's worth it to be twisted into this much sadness. I wish there was a brain tumor that could explain why my head often feels like the electric chair. Something there to prove I'm not crazy. I would court all of the brain surgeons if someone could remove it for me.

Labels: depression, medication, migraines, poetry, pretty delusional, side effects, writing