I don’t know if it’s my cynicism
but depression seems
so
very
misconstrued these days.
“Man, you’ll get over it eventually, ” people
keep telling me,
as if depression is a huge mountain
that I’ll have the strength to climb atop
when I’m finally high up enough
from all my weed
or something, when really depression is
what makes you lie in bed all day -
nihilist you versus the closure-less universe.
What I have is called
“major depression in partial” something
and something-else “cardiomyopathy.”
See? Even depression
has its own fancy medical terms.
Also, it can kill you -
like localized primary lymphoma, except
you don’t hear people telling cancer patients
“Man, you’ll get over it eventually.”
I'm not asking you to feel sorry for me -
my condition gets really bad when
I feel like an attention ****,
which I'm not,
but I can't be sure. Of anything.
Depression can be
so
very
misconstruing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem