My Mountains

I’ve always loved the mountains.
They’ve always felt like home to me.
I’ve never felt like a stranger.
They’ve always accepted me.
Comforted me.
But not these.
These mountains of my own creation,
These mole hills, 
grown from my own contemplation,
My overthinking driving them upward,
Piling more and more, 
Growing larger and larger,
These mountains in this range… 
They aren’t comforting,
They’re hostile and strange
and they trap me in with them,
refusing to release me
Until I question everything within me.
These mountains aren’t home to me.
But they’ve become my hiding place.
They’re where I go in my fear,
When I don’t know where to turn.
When I reach the dark places of 
my mind,
And I can’t find a light,
Their dark caves glitter with apprehension.
When I thirst for comfort
and refuse to search for it,
Their slick walls drip with worry.
And each night they grow larger.
These mountains reach high,
Higher than I can see. 
They refuse to release me.
These mountains aren’t home to me.
I climb and climb,
but they scratch me,
they catch,
they cut and claw me.
I slip and fall,
And I’m alone.
Trapped in the mountains I’ve made.
Alone in my beautiful,
Lonely mountain range.
These mole hills,
Made so tall and imposing,
Simply by my overthinking.
The conglomerate of all my fear and anxiety.
Are they upset with me?
Did I hurt them?
What she said to me,
Was there something I missed?
Were they always right?
Am I only the worst parts of me?
But the one question that’s always haunted me…
Am I really alone, here in my mountain range?
Am I trapped in here,
With no one else near,
If I cry out,
Will anyone hear?
Will anyone care to hear me?
I’m not sure anymore.
And it scares me.
I need a light.
Something to help me see.
Maybe the walls of these caves,
Glittering so brightly.
I’m so thirsty…
Maybe the walls of these caves,
dripping with worry.
Maybe they sustain me.
Or do they simply bury me,
Beneath the stone and rubble,
Of every fear and worry?


So, This is a bit of a dark one. If you’ve known me for any length of time longer than 2 minutes, you know I love the mountains. The Rocky Mountains is one of my favorite places in the world. Move me to the mountains, and I’ll be completely happy. So, why write this poem with this image? I wanted to convey something; Depression and overthinking can take even the things we know bring us comfort, and turn them into something imposing that trap us. If you look at writers, artists, songwriters, performers, whoever it may be, for all the good that you see you’ll also see a long history of depression, addiction, drug abuse, alcoholism, a million other things. My favorite poet, Edgar Allan Poe, was a struggling alcoholic. Jackson Pollock, a famous painter whose paintings now sell for millions, was a struggling alcoholic. Kurt Cobain, Layne Staley, Ernest Hemingway, the list goes on and seems to only be growing longer. There is a definite correlation between a creative mind and depression, and I’m certainly no exception. I’ve struggled with depression and self hatred for a while. Growing up being the outcast kid with a disability in school made loving myself difficult. Hence why I wrote this poem. I wanted to give an image of my own struggle with depression. I wanted to show people the danger of overthinking, of never letting your small problems out and allowing them to grow from mole hills into mountains. I still struggle with this sometimes, it isn’t something that’s completely gone. But I know God is working in me, and one day I will feel no depression, no sadness, no self hatred, only joy. For if I have faith the size of a mustard seed, I will tell this mountain “move from here to there” and it will clear a path for me. And to anyone who reads this and is struggling, I know you’ve heard it a thousand times, but it’s temporary. Reach out to a trusted friend, family member, your significant other, and especially to God, and you will find comfort and peace. It can be scary, and difficult, and you may not always want to do it, but it’s worth it every time. Reach out, speak up, seek help and it will be found. Those mountains around you, they don’t have to be your cage. They can be pillars, platforms for you to tell your story, and give others hope that what they’re feeling is temporary, and that they too will one day know peace.

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