Light

sitting here, in this 

infinite maze

a forest of my own thoughts

depression like brambles

happiness like a dangling apple.

Anxiety, a brisk breeze in a too cold clearing

Dysphoria blocks the sun with its endless branchess

Who? I dare say.

Who said i couldnt be.

Was it me?

Did i sabatoge myself?

Was it all just a mirage? 

A passing fancy?

Like that of the phases of the moon?

No.

It can't be.

It musn't be.

I know it isnt

I feel each and every bramble

i can feel the branches!

I can feel the small rays of sunlight floating through

like dandelion seeds in that brisk breeze

That i call

Anxiety. 

This endless forest of my own thoughts.

With a gentle touch and a little kiss

A small hug and a push.

I laugh now.

It doesnt seem so endless.

I can see the Sun.