My Other Half

He first kisses me when I am five years old. It’s almost like he fills every space inside of me.
Unaware of the nature of these things, I carry him through my younger years and into adolescence.
We both rebel at sixteen and move in together.
I suppose it was inevitable, being together as long as we have.
We quickly develop co-dependence.
He gives me a hunger, I give him ammunition.
I lose myself in him often, I feel like i need to take a step back.
The drugs help. Not the tiny pills prescribed,
by doctors stabbing in the dark for a long term solution to what i rarely consider a problem,
but the kind purchased with cash from sometimes shady men in remote locations littering the city.
Soon he finds his voice, he shouts all the time.
I name him gloom and give him free reign for the first hour everyday,
and in return he gives me the ability to pretend everything is okay for the rest of it.
I try to find the right way to soothe him, Sometimes I think he’s gone.
He always returns, angry and wrathful.
He scars me mentally and physically.
They tell me i should call him by his real name. Depression.
I realise i’m not the only one he’s been hounding.
That there are many of us.
After graduating, there is no escape.
I’m always home, He’s always there.
Experiencing him has made me stronger in some ways.
We have a complex relationship.
I’m sick,
I’m sick of him.

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