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  • Poem, Writing

    Washed Out to Sea

    Seasonal Depression & Some Coping Methods


    where does this loneliness 

    come from?


    how does something 

    swallow me up inside

    if i don’t even know

    where it is

    coming from?


    i can’t even begin to wrap my head

    around why i feel 

    lonely when

    all i do is choose to be



    i am my worst



    i lose excitement 

    daily, and

    i lose my purpose

    daily, and

    i question my place

    in this wild world i 

    was born into





    i have tried to build 

    a place for me-

    tried to build a castle

    out of rotting wood and 

    splintered glass 


    it isn’t working.


    i didn’t belong before, and

    i don’t belong now, and

    i am starting to think that

    i don’t belong

    any / where


    -but i can’t let them know


    i can’t let 




    there are so many things that i hide

    that i’m not sure

    what parts of me

    are left



    i am a mystery. 


    / do i want to be? /




    but i have

    become one.


    i float aimlessly-

    a geographically challenged butterfly,

    wings ripped and 

    so far from home that

    she drags the chrysalis of

    who she once was along 

    beside her.


    when is my



    everyone keeps talking about

    the moment where we all

    spread our wings and

    GROW, but

    i am beginning i feel

    as if that moment

    will never come for



    maybe i spread my wings too early,

    overexcited myself with the

    potential of freedom and

    turned into a modern day


    the lasting sunburn still

    pinching my skin


    ,and maybe i never

    spread my wings

    at all-

    maybe i deluded myself 

    in the same way

    that i delude



    crafting a life so

    cloudy that

    all i can do is




    blows through my hair and

    damages what i have worked

    so hard to



    i am a sandcastle whose

    only purpose is to be



    i do not last/

    i will not last/


    one day the sea will 

    creep its way into my

    crumbling soul and

    take me just as it has

    taken so many



    ,and i will wash out to

    mother ocean,

    surrender my aching 

    bones and

    relinquish what little

    control i had over

    this life i tried to

    raise out of




    maybe the ones who come

    after me will

    know more than

    i do;

    maybe they will

    swim in the ocean just like

    i did when i was

    a child who didn’t know

    better than to drink

    the salt of the sea


    maybe they will 

    learn something.


    maybe they will

    drink the salt,

    taste the essence of

    what was and what

    is and 

    what will be,


    stumble across the shells

    i left on the ocean

    floor, hoping that one day

    someone one would find what

    i one day

    found and

    remember me.