Depression - 4. I Don’t Know Who I Am

I know who you are,

you who are my friends.

You are shapes with substance,

your outlines clearly defined.

You reach out to me

with strong arms and gentle fingers,

and you hold me in your light.

But I only see the darkness

because I look in the mirror

and don’t see anyone there.

No one that I know.

This person who sees through my eyes

Is not the person who looks back.

This person who thinks in my head

doesn’t belong in my body.

Except I’m no longer sure

whether it is the outside or the inside

that makes us who we are.

My thoughts are mine; they are always mine.

My feelings are mine; they are always mine.

Every word I say belongs to me,

but I don’t know who “me” is.

I feel like there are two of me…of us?

One stands in front of the glass,

and one hides behind the glass,

behind the eyes that are not mine.

And I know who you are,

you who are part of my heart,

the heart that is in both of us,

the heart that is in me.

I know who you are.

I see you even when I have no eyes.

I know who you are.

You are the one who holds my hand.

But I don’t know who I am