I run away from my problems

I distract myself,

whether through

media,

music,

other people’s problems.

I divert my eyes

I chase away my train of thought.

My tears are reabsorbed before they fall.

Sobs of sorrow and terror hide in my hollow throat.

My weak energy does not drain.

Nothing happens in the eye of the spectator.

My life appears to be normal and unconcerning.

I claim to wear navys and blacks for the look

not really the depression.

The eye of the spectator does not notice my sighs

slight shakes,

representing the pain and the disownment of that pain occurring in my head.

Sometimes I’m too feeble to cry

or too numb

or already emotionally drained

or I tell myself I don’t deserve to cry

Toxic masculinity

in a girl.

Other days I find it in me to cry

to sob

to grief

to have thoughts that aren’t banished away.

Those days seem rare.

My depression is captivated within now.

It’s part of me

that both haunts,

and creates immunity.

The immunity is not complete in its protection,

for a Band-Aid cannot protect against

the jab of a knife.

A slick, speedy stab.

The pain will dive deep,

but the immunity will kick in

so it doesn’t hurt anymore

My mind knows what to do.

I’ve learned it better than breathing.

Don’t feel the stab of the knife.