It is impossible to imagine a face you have not seen. My anxiety gets me shaking more than five
shots of espresso. Listening to music at night keeps me from thinking about her. Everything reminds me of her. My body is paralyzed when I dream. My worst fear is to lose her and I have lost her. CPR rarely ever works. Hippophobia is the fear of not hippos: but horses. I can’t tell my friends because one wouldn’t know what to say and the other is too selfish to give a s***. I could feel myself losing her before I actually did. Poetry is another way to be vocally depressed without anyone suspecting a thing. Did I just give my secret away? I laugh by myself because she’s not here to do so. I have to distract myself to numb the pain. Most of what I do is to numb the pain. At age twenty-seven my brain will start to deteriorate. Will I forget her? At age twenty-seven her brain will start to deteriorate. Will she forget me? Every eighteen minutes someone dies from suicide. Is it really easier to be dead? I have never felt so incomplete in my life. She is, and always will be, my prized possession. People say all bad things happen for a reason, but can never give you that reason. Depression and anxiety are a packaged deal I didn’t order. I miss her. And I know it was my fault for her going but how can I help my thoughts, problems, and love for her? She was the only drug I’ll ever take; I didn’t want to go to rehab! I can still feel her with every breath, every step. She is itching at my skin, gnawing at my bones. She was my happy pill, my Prozac, and my only hope. It is impossible to see a face that doesn’t want to see yours.