Faulty wiring

Nothing feels how it did. Even the things that always
Felt good. Nothing ever feels quite how it should since
This mental invasion of the depressive kind. It’s almost
Like my mind isn’t my mind, but rather, a car on loan;
And while I’m fiddling with the gear shift to try and get
Home I just seem to be getting most lost, and more out
Of control. Knowing my luck I’ll steer into a ditch, or
Fall into a black hole never to be seen again by family,
Eventually forgotten by friends. Is that how it will end?
Some tragic accident that everyone says they could see
Coming inevitably, they’ll all say they knew something
Tragic would get me even though none of them told me
That. Does this count as a suicidal thought? Hopefully
Not, it will only result in increased medication from
The doctor and increased trepidation from everyone
Who’s close enough to me to know that these smiles
Are false, and my laughter is a show. It’s not a suicide
Thought, I think far too highly of myself for such
Behaviour so don’t worry, you’re in no danger of finding
Me hanging from the towel rail, clutching personalised
Mail to all my family to explain why I simply had to die.
I like living. Love, in fact. And once my mind is back in
Tact I’ll love it even more. Now if only someone could
Teach me to drive.