My body feels dead, like it should

But it isn’t completely

I am hanging between life and death

Balanced delicately on the gossamer thread of hope and despair

Which side will it tip?

It has been 2, 3 or maybe 4 hours since

My ma rushed me to the hospital

White foam streaming out from my mouth

My face, a pale shade of blue

It was those tiny sleeping pills I took

A tiny overdose, that’s all

“Why? Why? Why?” My fogged brain heard my mother scream desperately

I wanted to reach out and pat her hands, “Not your fault, ma, never was…”

Depression is such a sly, slimy thing. It just insinuates itself into your life

And starts digging a pit right in the middle of you

And keeps pulling you down, deeper and deeper; no way out…

I want to sleep, blissful and restful

But my mother and the nurse are sitting beside me

Watchful and alert,

Mt poor mother is tired and wrecked, begging for sleep

To turn in to oblivion, to forget me, her woes, at least for a few blessed minutes

But the mother in her will fight; her sleep, even if it means herself

She will not give in to sleep until she makes sure

I will be back and will never sleep forever again…