Depression by Neesa Suncheuri

TRIGGER WARNING: Suicide.

My heart is warm.  At least, it’s warmer than your heart.  How do I know?  Because every time I hold your hand, it feels warm.  Maybe that doesn’t make sense.  But I once heard someone say, “cold hands, warm heart.”  So I can only guess that warm-handed people are cold-hearted.

I can believe this.  I feel your warm, sweaty hand every time it slaps me across the face.  You tell me it teaches me a lesson, but I don’t know what I’m learning.  I must be stupid.  What do they say about warm tears?  I don’t know, no one ever told me.  I bet they don’t say anything, because tears don’t matter.

Is my heart really warm?  It’s gotta be warmer than yours.  My heart, that loves you even when you beat me.  I’m so numb, it’s been so long since I tested my own pulse.  Only your beatings make me feel alive.  My heart beats to the pulse of your whip.  I see my blood spill through my skin onto the bed sheets, and it feels warm when I sit in it.  I guess that is proof that I have a warm heart.

But even then, I’m not entirely sure.  I know that when I cut myself, the blood is warm.  But then the wounds heal cold.  I bleed again, it is red.  Red, the color of feeling, of love, of passion.  But then I heal, and the feeling is gone.  There is no more love.  But I want it back.  I want it to stay with me forever.  I want to bathe myself in this redness, this passion that only the color red can understand.

And the beautiful thing is, this red is ME.  It comes from inside me.  It is my baby, my child.  It is only fitting that my child comforts me, envelops me in her embrace when it is time for my passing.  My leaving.  My eternal sleep, where I know that my heart is warm.

neesas1

Neesa Suncheuri works as a mental health peer specialist at a housing agency in Queens, New York.  She is the founder of a Facebook discussion group for peer specialists and other recovery enthusiasts, entitled “What is Wellness?  A Mental Health Discussion Group.”  Much of her creative inspiration is rooted in her now-tamed schizophrenia.  She is a singer/songwriter, and performs in various venues in the city.  She writes poetry, maintains a blog and is currently working on a memoir.  Follow her on Twitter at @aquariumspeaks.

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