Student Highlight: Poetry by Ariana Henton pt. 2

The following is a continuation of Ariana Henton’s poetry collection:

Jan 10, 2018

Let’s Call It Anything but Depression

I should probably write about something

— anything, really —

other than this. this. well,

I’m not really sure what to call it.

phase? episode? low?

I’m not really sure how to describe it.

glum? despondent? dragged down?

what’s another fancy word for feeling bummed out?

whatever this is, I know that it is the exact

opposite of good, of healthy. But then

why does it make me feel more alive

than any good day I have ever lived?

Why does it take days full of sob-soaked

pillow sheets and nothing but top-ramen and toast

to make me feel real, to make me feel human?

Jan 30, 2018

These days

have been soaked in

salt which leaks from

my eyes no matter

how tight I squeeze

them shut no matter

how many miles

my legs run

no matter how late

I stay awake, mind

running circles around

itself chasing thoughts

that begin and end with

my salty tears, chasing

could-haves and


running dizzying circles

until it can’t run anymore,

and I slip into the

half-sleep state that I

spend my nights in,

doused in dreams that

are not very dreamlike at all

but that are just more crowds

of people that make me feel

alone, dreams that are just

more salt and more tears

and more circles, more

dizzying spirals that begin

and end with my salty tears,

and I wake praying

for the end of these days.

Feb 14, 2018

I can’t concentrate

or relate any nebulous

phrases to today and so

I spit smoke instead

until the haze settles in and

the greens and greys of the

asphalt and of the pines

blur together leaving streaks

in my vision of memories

and moments yet to come.

The yellow center line

is rambling and winding;

asphalt takes slow wide

turns around hollowed out

riverbeds and everything here

is thick with the silence and

so full of blues and browns;

thick like soil in the ground and

so full of the absence of sound.

Jan 15, 2019

Contentedness and Complacency

Halfway into January and I’m feeling okay.

Alright, even healthy,

not tearing apart at the seams

reeling ever back from the brink,

but treading. Instead of drowning.

And I wonder what this means for February.

For March.

And I wonder what this means for my relationships.

For my writing.

Easier to write when I have no choice.

Not so easy to write when the days

are just okay,

alright, even healthy,

when the days roll easy instead of fight,

when my existence is light and I

forget what it means to have to remind myself to want to live.

Thank you again Ariana for sharing your vulnerability with us!

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1 Response

  1. Gaylene Golden says:

    I strongly relate to your content and style. It describes precisely how I feel. I am not alone.

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