daffodils | Teen Ink

daffodils

February 18, 2016
By caseyrebecca BRONZE, Tallahassee, Florida
caseyrebecca BRONZE, Tallahassee, Florida
2 articles 0 photos 4 comments

I know the general outline of depression and it smells like daffodils, like you're stuck in a field of daffodils after the sun goes down and you can't see them anymore, but all there is is darkness and daffodils, smothering you with their flowery scent and soft touch, until there's nothing left but you, you alone floating in the sky, the daffodils far far below, and somehow even though you know nothing about where you are or how you got there, there's a stone lodged deep in your gut, pushing and pushing, telling you it's your fault. Oh, I know the general outline of depression and it tastes like car rubber, the bitter, rancid smell wafting into your lungs, until you're in an auto shop, watching the men and women toy with cars that can't be fixed, and they start moving faster and faster until you can't move and you're bound in place listening to the voices speed by as you wish you could cover your ears and scream but you're stuck with the taste of oil in your mouth, drowning you, suffocating you, until, until--! Depression is not violent although it is, a ship in a sea full of foam and crests ten feet high, passively bashing the waves around it, not even noticing it's both killing and dying as it sinks or as it stays--it doesn't matter, the storm has died down. It's a small toy airplane dropped to the floor and forgotten, or maybe picked up by a young girl who grabs it and zooms away, getting taller and face growing dimmer each step she takes, although she is still the same age as before. That jacket on the floor of your room, the ripped dark blue one which you haven't worn in years, oh, that's depression. They say it's all knives and sharp pain, but no, it can be so much more subdued than that, the daffodils coiling around your neck and smiling at the world. It's the sour aftertaste of car oil making its way across you and then falling from your hand onto the ground, creeping away silently. And your mind is being shoved into a pencil sharpener, shrinking and shrinking down into a bit sized eraser as the pencil is far gone by now, and all that's left is a gray scratch on a wall, fading away on the daily, but for now it's still there, and I suppose that must count for something.


The author's comments:

After Andre Breton's "The Verb to Be".


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This article has 6 comments.


on Feb. 27 2016 at 1:12 pm
caseyrebecca BRONZE, Tallahassee, Florida
2 articles 0 photos 4 comments
Actually, it's a prose poem! But thank you!!

on Feb. 26 2016 at 2:28 pm
RainWriter GOLD, Rochester, New York
12 articles 10 photos 9 comments

Favorite Quote:
"If not me, who? If not now, when?" -Emma Watson, Gender Equality is Your Issue Too, Speech at the United Nations

I love this! Relatable, and your use of imagery stunned me.

Saturn. BRONZE said...
on Feb. 24 2016 at 7:32 pm
Saturn. BRONZE, Las Vegas, Nevada
3 articles 0 photos 55 comments

Favorite Quote:
&quot;The mind is better than the sword&quot;<br /> -Unknown (I&#039;m too lazy to look it up)<br /> &quot;All warfare is based on deception&quot;<br /> -Sun Tzu

The imagery, the picture, and the content being typed in the form of an essay or two, this taught me a lesson

on Feb. 24 2016 at 5:00 pm
This is really moving and beautifully written. Good job!

on Feb. 24 2016 at 3:19 pm
AWriter101 SILVER, Rockton, Illinois
8 articles 0 photos 90 comments

Favorite Quote:
being single doesn&#039;t mean you are week it means that you are strong enough to wait for what you deserve! -Niall Horan

wow the imagery is amazing, you have real talent!!

Charley001 said...
on Feb. 24 2016 at 2:37 pm
this is so good--keep writing !!!!