. . .and I'm struggling with depression. Again.
But since I love plastering my life issues across the empty etherwebs, I'm going to go into detail.
Honestly, right now, I feel like a shadow on the wall. The fuzzy one that actually is laying inside the bookcase, created by my bedside light. I'm an animist, I'm surrounded by life, by soul, by energy, by identities. Yet I feel so alone. I joke and laugh, but honestly, I laugh the loudest because I cherish those flickering moments of happiness. I'm not covering, I'm not sad all the time. I'm actually happy much of the time, but there come moments where I fall into the pit. It's not like I trip either. I stand on the edge, reach out my arms, and lean forward, stretching into the dark expanse as I go down, down into the abyss.
THe floor in the abyss isn't hot. It isn't warm. It isn't even room temp. It's cold. And hollow. You can knock on it and hear the echo for miles.
There's very little company. I doubt anyone could survive down here as well as I do. Of course there is my thoughtforms, Drake especially. The darkness suits him well, although he doesn't get the sadness. Gho, my body partner, my friend for life, hates it down here. She gets pissed when I'm here, and sometimes has to pull me out. Admittedly, I'm stubborn. There's something about this, this utter loneliness, this hollow feeling in my core. It's like some sort of drug. I used to have a thoughtform who could be here with me, but he also would drag me down here. It was our space together. It was our escape. But I sent him away. And not in a polite proper way either. I just sort of decided one day he was no longer of any use.
That was really shitty of me. Really ******** shitty. I'm so ******** horrible sometimes to the spiritual entities I know. And I never realise it til long after the fact.
I'm sorry. I'm so ******** sorry. After all we'd been through. Sure, it wasn't all good. Alot of times I should have gotten the hint that we weren't right for eachother, that you weren't good for me. I should have known.
But it was wrong of me to be shitty back to you.
Oh hyena. Oh poor creature that used to make me laugh hysterically while crying on the inside. Where are you? I hope you are well. I hope you're getting better. Hope you are fulfilled, satisfied, healthy. Do you even exist anymore?
I'm stuck. So very very very stuck. I've been applying anywhere and everywhere (well, almost anywhere. I do have some standards.) and nothing's calling back. Everyone wants someone who's totally available, yet how do they know if I'm totally available or not? Do I have a tattoo on my forehead with "has a life outside of work"? Why am I trapped here at Chili's? I feel like this is some sick joke by somebody. No one wants to hire me. And the sad thing is, I don't know I could be accepted anywhere else. I'm so different. So strange. It's like only in that place will I find a space.
They tell me that I'm young. That better things will come.
It's so hard to wait . . . I feel so old. It's in my bones. I'm dying of old age, and I'm only ******** 21.
Father's gristle, does that make me sound pathetic. Selfish? Naive? Silly?
Yes, sure it is. I know it is. But it's what I'm ******** feeling. And I don't know how to get it out. This thing that everyone finds funny. Cute. Endearing. I want to claw it out of me. Or to vomit it away.
These moments are like flickers. Glimmers of passions, aggressions, affections, transgressions. Like the sun reflecting of a rippling river, lighting up my window. I can stand them if I can remember that it shall fluctuate with the current.
Why is it that when I need a lover the most is the worst time to have one? Why is it that when I no longer want one I will recieve one? Why? Why are we designed to want what we need to not have, and then need what we do not want? Why? What design is this? What purpose does this serve?
Only the cruel cold apathy of nature could have done this. Here is the proof of evolution. THat we are so flawed, so counter-intuitive, so contradictory, so broken inside, that to suggest that we were designed is an insult to those we claim made us.
But I say this only because right now it is present in my mind. Tomorrow I shall be a different me, but the same me. I shall say different things, espouse different beliefs, participate in different activities. And then I shall revert back to here.
I feel like I've only recently stepped out of the womb.
I want to complain about the boy I yearn for, but it is so in err, so stupid, so unwise for me to do so, knowing so, that it shames me to even mention my own crisis of irony. But it bears mentioning, as it is a factor in my state of mind right now.
Am I good at anything? Yes, but am I good at the things I want to be good at? Why can't I allow myself to chase after these things?
I'm so afraid. I'm so ******** afraid. THere is so much at risk. I have so much to lose. Or at least in my own mind. Mayhaps there is nothing to lose at all. Mayhaps there is nothing to gain.
I think it is my path to be in pain. I was born with this thing that eats my insides, feeds on my guts, heart, lungs.
Is it wrong to sometimes revel in it? To take this depression and just roll in it? There is nothing so cleansing as crying in my bathroom while listening to "Run" by Snow Patrol. Nothing so holy as sobbing those shuddering tears I yearn to wretch out of my eyes. Gods I want to cry so hard! But it doesn't come. I don't even have the time to schedule such a thing.
A promise then. That when it comes, I shall allow it to come.
When the moment of purging is upon me, I shall submit to it. Wholly and unadulteratedly.
For I know that it is from that point, that place where I have reached the true bottom of despair, it is from there that clarity shall be attained. It is from here that my hope shall spring forth, the light will pour back in, and the shadow on the wall shall be able to touch it's body, my body, once again.
Gho the Girl