Some days

Some days,
I don't want to be brave.
I don't want to pretend everything is fine.
I don't want to laugh it off when my memory has more holes than Swiss cheese,
or when I wake up blind. Or deaf. Or lame.
Some days,
I don't want to hide the depression because it makes someone else uncomfortable.
I don't want to be afraid to leave the house because I'm really happy, but I can't tell if it's just another manic episode.
Some days,
 I just want my life back.