A Dear John Letter to Depression

Dear Depression:

We have been together for so long I cannot put in to mind the amount of years. You have sat in the livingroom of my soul, getting drunk on the wine of misery…and all it cost me was my happiness. I did not recognize you when you came. You fell in the shadows of past lovers, lost dreams and distant memory. I did not see you waiting behind their smiles, in the blink of their eyes, behind the darkness of their words. Why? I will never know. I am no longer surprised though. I should have known that the sun could not shine everywhere; it is dark most of the time where we are, where our relationship exists.

I have awoken to you once more. I have curled into a fetal position during the night and you have wrapped your frame about me. It is hard to turn under you, your frame is so heavy…so comsuming.

It is sticky beneath you, humid in this space that we have tried to weather, I don’t know myself when I am with you – the saltiness of my skin, the shape of my thighs, the fullness of my womb. You have impregnated me with sorrow. I have carried her for two terms and yet she will not come out.

You are quite the trickster. When I believed I was done with you…that I had found my path to happiness – you reappeared, waiting behind the disappearance of a lost lover. It is in his departure, I labor with sorrow. And you? You were there to deliver her.

A bouncing broken heart.

The room was filled with your presence and I could not breathe within the smog of it. You had me believing that I could not exist without you, that we were joined for good, but as always been, you were wrong.

There are no shortage of easy ways to say this…

I am writing to tell you…I have been cheating on you. I have been seeing happiness every chance I get, at work, in restaurants, in the eyes of a possible lover, in my mirror, in meditation and prayer. He carresses me with joy and leaves the scent of magic on my person. When I am with him, I am woman – I am powerful, passionate, full of purpose. In the arms of Happy (what I call him for short), I transformed; Iam the most beautiful woman in the world.

So, this letter Depression was never to uplift you, but to send you and sorrow on your way. You are no longer my misery. You are no longer welcome…even in the lonely times. I have learned to be alone and not lonely…so you are evicted – from my life, from my bed, from my memory…


Renee Michele


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