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Nightmares
Depressed.
That is what they call me.
That is the label they slap across
my forehead,
the diagnosis they write
at the top of the medical chart,
above the list of checked-off boxes:
sadness, mood swings, insomnia,
social isolation, loss of interest in activities,
suicidal thoughts.
To them, it is all that I am,
all that I will ever be.
Depressed.
That is what they call me.
But I know better.
There is no one identity
for the monster inside me,
the monster that killed me,
the monster that I am.
It has a thousand names,
and each one is a nightmare.
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