Someone will want this

I found this sitting in my phone and thought why not share it someone will enjoy it why not, so wether you like what I wrote or not someone will

Have you ever thought what your supposed to do with your hand while you walk? Do they swing at your sides do they chill in pockets or are the chlenched. When one suddenly becomes aware of the way theyve been walking with their hands their whole life they start to think about them. My hands are always doing something inconvien like this morning, I wanted to get up but my hands just pull the blanket back up and again and again and again. My hands dont care if Im late. My hands make me breakfast and its barely enough. I get to class. Instead of writing notes my hands write poems. Page after page of them theyve always been good at it. In primary school I loved to stencil. Paint covering my hands just the way I liked it. A nice reminder of what I can do with just my hands. To me my depression is a lot like my hands. I do not like to look at my depression unless it is not covered in paint. It would be counterintuitive to pretend It does not write my poems. My depression doesnt paint what I want to write or word my depression is just what I can do with these hands. Its no coincidence that my heart is the same size as my hand, an open palm can turn into a late night fist. Its these clenched fingers its so easy this heart sized hand throws punches how easy it creates and distracts me from how unable I am able to cut it from my body. Its not so simple. I cant just feel better I cant just cut of my hands I cant just think positive I cant just throw my hands away I cant just amputate this appendage as it is apart of me as anything else. Have you ever thought about what to with depression while walking like your walking and depression is on your back or next to you and suddenly it goes from silent anxiety to sudden doubt and inferiority missing time eyes wide open 1;00am because sleep just doesnt come at the right time anymore Im just trying to figure out whichever way one is supposed to deal with their depression one suddenly becomes acutely aware how long theyve been carring it for. My Depression seems to be always doing something inconvenient like this morning. I open my eyes and depression sends me back to bed again and again and again deppression doesnt care about making me late my depression makes me breakfast, I dont have enough. I get to class and my depression writes me poems instead of notes. Page after page if then its always been good at that. Its always been good at that.