Depression

I miss things sometimes. When you take a drink of water. And it tastes worse than ever and makes you cry for no reason. As if water has died. Nothing is stagnant. But it feels, hurts, smells stagnant. I miss eating random things. Random tumbles and stumbles. Random aches and pains. Raining randomness. Nothing is stagnant. Water died in my throat. Every blade of grass feels harsher than ever. As if the grass is taunting me. I don’t remember when my depression got so bad. I just remember being young, I think. Now. I miss things sometimes. I wish I had something in mind. I promise, I’ll think of something soon.