Depression Poetry

Antidepressant by Sarah Bricault

The world seems smallest when I’m alone.
The spaces contract, walls shrinking in,
forcing me to interact with myself.

We’ve grown apart these past few months, myself and I.
Nothing has changed. Everything has changed.

We sit in uncomfortable silence.
Like a first date. Like the aftermath of war.
We have to redefine normal.

I don’t know if I can learn to love the person across from me.
I think I like them, but
there’s been so much cruelty in the past.

We’re both holding our breath, hoping it’s not the eye
of the storm.

Sarah Bricault has a PhD in neurobiology and currently works as a postdoc in that field. Her fascination with the mind and how it processes information often finds itself in her poetry, as do themes related to mental health. Sarah’s work can be found in Brown Bag Online and in upcoming editions of High Shelf Press, The Poeming Pigeon, and Wingless Dreamer. More information about Sarah can be found at