My story of surviving COVID-19, false test results, complications, and continued, lingering health problems seven weeks later.
A poem about the diagnosis that changed everything.
It's made me realize how important it is to just talk. And to do it face to face. To feel safe. To know there's zero judgment. To actually look into someone's eyes and know without a doubt that they're listening with every fiber of their being.
Another poem about that one word.
Depression is more like grief. It's a crushed feeling. A grinding into dust. A shattering. A grating apart like flour forced through a sifter. A parasitic tapeworm of the soul. A weight on my chest, so heavy I can hardly breathe, producing the panic of an asthma attack, as if I am about to die.