I remember being in sixth grade, hearing that some girl named Hallie thought I was annoying.

Said I talked about mental health too much.

I can’t say I know why I did it.

I was anxious back then,

But it would still be another few months before I had my first break.

And after that first break,

I still talked a bit about it.

Not as much though.

Maybe I just wanted it to feel more normal.

And then there was seventh grade and I guess I was doing fine for a while.

It’s a little foggy.

So much of that year was her.

Maybe I’ve just blocked it out.

But I remember the spring clearly.

The spring is when I first met depression.

When that hit me I told nobody.

After awhile I got the impression that nobody wanted to hear.

I mean, she didn’t.

And back then she was my life.

Then this year,

When it got bad,

I told none of my friends.

I suffered in silence.

It made for some great poetry.

But I got help and I got back on track

And that’s fine now.

But once the depression was gone,

The gravity of her hit me.

And I didn’t talk about it with my friends.

Now I try to tell them everything.

It even brought me closer to one of them.

I’m trying to unlearn hiding,

And lying,

And acting.

I’m trying to learn how to trust again.

I still don’t feel perfect in my relationships.

But I’m working on being honest.

Sharing is therapeutic.