Manicly Depleted. A love Story.

Deplete, the daily prompt.

It’s dark and the lights are on.

The TV’s on but not even Friends can cheer up the mood.

There’s no appetite but plenty of food:

sugar sachets and peanut butter with banana.

Fifty three minutes go by and it feels like three hours. No text back means you’re dead, or worse, you’ve abandoned me like crumbs on a counter.


Living far away makes it so much harder,

I’m depleted of all that makes any sense.

Depleted of you, and depleted of me.

You’re left with nothing but raindrops on a tin roof,

with no one inside to hear the symphony.

It’s all just a mess, and I have not the energy to clean.


What happened?

I woke up and you were well,

by sunset, you were in distress.

Nothing I did eased the pain:

I whispered and it hurt you, I kept silent and you’d fill it with hate,

I screamed, and you’d fill me with guilt:

How could I scream to you when you’re so dark and deep you don’t even have the energy to breathe? How could I be so insensitive?!

“I can’t teach you how to treat me! I can’t spare the energy! Don’t you see I’m holding on by my teeth! Just leave!”

But I didn’t leave…. I didn’t. I wanted to, but I was too scared you’d hurt yourself. I’d leave the next day, yes… The next day, once the storm’s settled, and the weather is fair… I’m not made for this torment, and it’s not my burden to wear.

Day broke, later than most days.

The Sun came out again, and those words that were screamed and yelled were depleted of meaning,

And loving and caring rose from its ashes, like a merry go round, like the roller coaster that lives constantly in your mind, with no one at the controls…

And I was filled with compassion because it’s easy to feel compassion when the other apologises, but that’s not a true test of character. It’s when it’s dark and ugly that we need to be our brightest and our best.

So I promised to you, and to myself, that the next time this happens, and it will happen, I’ll be ready. I’ll be quiet, but present, I’ll listen and I’ll ask questions until you answer them, because I know that if I sense you’re bad, you’ve been bad for long, and I know that you need to talk, but are scared to be the burden, scared to deplete me, and the words you scream, are not you but the depression…

I love you in dark and in light and in every shade between.


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