“Today has been a rough day, I’ve been so sad and overwelemed with hopelessness, sometimes I don’t think I can stand it. My dr put me on a new med today and I ‘am scared to take it because the side affects seem harsh. But I guess at this point I have nothing to lose. One of my best friends is in town and I didn’t even want to see her, I didn’t want her to see me like this, I don’t want her to think I’ve lost it even if I feel I have. She is such a doll with so much hope for her life ahead and I have none that I don’t want to bring her down with me.” -exerpt from an online forum for people suffering from depression
I imagined that if I act as if I don’t exist, then the world will honor my request, but it hasn’t quite worked that way. Something powerful keeps me tied to this tired world, this healing world in peril. I am like the world. Hell, I am the world. As I realize this, I understand why I cannot give up on the world, on life, and on love. It would be akin to a Christian giving up on God.
I was once told that a sin is defined as an act against one’s own soul, defiance of all inner-knowing and intuition. To sin is to make the wrong choice. But within our sins lie life’s building blocks of growth, and growth is one of life’s few constants. When there is no longer a need or desire for growth, the sin will cease and we will become clean again. Or something like that.
I was born like this: dirty and deviant. So called. I have an idea of what and where I actually come from, what I am here to accomplish, and the specific areas of life that will involve. I have an idea. However my vision, while keen, is largely obscured by mental illness, addiction, and temptation. I imagined that I could deaden myself to it, to life, and somehow be swept into my destiny by unseen forces. Instead I have been swimming in circles in a stagnant pond of my own creation.
I don’t want to say that depression is debilitating, because I feel guilty, as if I am making an excuse for my inefficiency. I don’t want to say that each day is a success simply because I made it through it without throwing in the towel. That some days I want to do reckless shit, some days I self-medicate all day long, and some days it’s difficult to smile. I’m always cold and I don’t sleep well.
Who wants to hear that wining, right? Everybody has problems; deal with them, right?
Yeah, well. Tell that to my mother, asshole.
I’m pissed because it shouldn’t be this hard. Something is awry when living incites such deep sadness that is impossible to shake.
I lied when I said “fine.” I’m not fine at this time.
If I could just remove this boot from my neck.
E.
