Megan Entwistle: But What Does It Look Like?

A personal and honest view of the writer's experience of how it feels to live with depression. The suffocation and internal angst of living with it and the hope to be free of it.

prone wooden figure lying on stones with a stone on its back

Today, I don’t want to get out of my bed
For today I’m a prisoner inside my own head
Crippling thoughts deceivingly wrap around my spine
In the same way that ivy clings to the vine

As I lay there lifeless, like a corpse in a grave
Society will say ‘cheer up’ or ‘be brave’
But they do not know the torture inside
The reason I’m longing to run away and hide

Day by day I face the arduous task
Of pretending I’m fine whilst wearing a mask
I smile, I laugh, and I may even joke
Yet nobody knows that inside I’m broke

I wish it were a dream so I could wake and be fine
Instead I submerge my thoughts in a river of wine
Each sip I take I begin to drown in despair
Fighting, suffocating, gasping for air

I make it to the surface and take a deep breath
Still I feel no relief only a fantasy of death
My mind is a maze and is constantly lost
I yearn to escape whatever the cost

So what does it look like my depression?
It looks like nothing but feels like an obsession
Obsession that one day maybe I’ll be free
From the destructive thoughts that paralyse me


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