depression and i are friends now
i ask- how did you sleep?
and she replies, fuck you
and i say- okay
we don’t fight like we used to
i’d take her to couple’s therapy
but we’d sit in silence, glaring at each other
sometimes she’d crack a joke and i giggle uncontrollably
the therapist would tell us to come back
when we take this a little more seriously
i wake her up at bizarre hours of the night
and she humors my questions like-
when will we die? are we ever going to do anything good? should we read more self help?
i know the way she likes her coffee and how to navigate her mood swings
i don’t particularly like her but then again, at least we’re at a sort of stalemate
she tolerates me and frankly, it’s better than the alternative
depression and i are friends and i need to go out more
can we go out more? i ask her
she says, do whatever you want, it doesn’t matter anyway
View another related poem: Goodbye, Depression
