|11:22 am - [pe]|
He found a short poem I’ve written this other day,
about…yes, feeling blue and all that
and it worried him.
He came up to talk to me, right after class.
Said i’d look sad lately.
I told him that just me in winter.
He showed me the poem,
asked concerned if really everything would be okay.
I said yes and again, that it’s just me and the winter.
He wasn’t satisfied with my answer,
told me it would worry him and considered I should go see a doc,
asking for meds.
I stared at him.
Too confused and somehow shocked to say something.
When you ask for meds you think of yourself as sick.
I never never thought of myself as sick.
I’m not sick, I don’t need meds, I don’t need a doctor.
It’s just the goddamn winter blues.
And it’s over again soon.
I don’t need medication to wait for spring.
I told him that.
And he sighed,
looking at me worried again,
wanted to say something,
but then just shrugged and nodded.
I don’t want him to worry,
and I don’t want him to think I need medication.