A depressant?

Cuba Art
(Photo credit: @Doug88888)

I can approach anyone.  I smile.  I joke.  I am hugs and kisses and screw you if it bothers you.  I don’t wonder what you are thinking.  I don’t care.  I am proud of my body.  I can sing.  I can dance.  I love everyone.  All around me is beauty and friendship.  Do they really call this a depressant?  I feel anything but depressed.  What’s depressing is when it all goes away.  It’s just me again.  I’m afraid, angry, and alone.


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