Days like this scare me.
I hate depression.
I know I should go out with friends but my friends are all so busy these days it seems like our schedules never quite match up and I worry that I’ll be too emotionally drained or anxious to enjoy hanging out at all and if not that I don’t want to see anyone who wants anything out of me other than my friendship which is a conundrum of its own.
Don’t get on me about the self-pity either…because I really hate it.
That’s the kicker.
I cannot stand that I know how to fix this from a logical, textbook standpoint.
I recognize my thoughts and hate them to a great extent.
I don’t like this person these low moods make me.
I want to let it go, but to be honest…
The girl from the dream, screaming “I don’t wanna go, I can’t”
Is still at the other side of the earthen bridge.
Someone is stuck somewhere in the past, someone can’t get over something-
Something or someone is buried and it’s trying to bury me.
Did I block something out?
They tell me they believe I did.
Sam tells me it doesn’t matter because I’d have to deal with it either way.
But I don’t know how.
It plagues me because I feel like all these issues keep forcing me to transfer my thoughts towards some issue or a world somewhere else than here because I always have to have something to deal with because I’m hiding from something or hiding from reality.
thus I shouldn’t be this way now.
I feel mentally impaired.
This sticks with me, this story where…
Lots wife was told not to look back,
if she looked back she’d crumble, wither away with the blossoms of coming old.
There’s not abnormality here-
Many of the greatest writers, actors and thinkers of history struggled with ongoing depression;
Freud, Einstein, Poe, James Dean, Audrey Hepburn, Sigmund Freud, Van Gogh, etc.
I think we’re almost driven to engulf ourselves in something-
It’s just so human,
because she looked back
and turned to dust
and aren’t we all
fading elements in time?
In the forest here all is quiet
And flattened leaves with their waterproof coats
fall in swivels like gliding tortoise shells
Piling onto the ground
Where no one notices
The tree ultimately
Has to watch itself it’s whole life
Seemingly at peace with it’s role
And while it may not understand a beating heart
It’s energy changes with the sound of a sweet voice
The tree understands
This world expects nothing of us
other than our breath
and probably feels bad
at how much we forget
how to just be.
Before Audrey Hepburn died she sat outside in cool crisp air and gazed upon the icy mountain tops painted upon a not so distant place-
She tilted her head to the sunlight and smiled,
“Mmm, that’s delicious,”
And so it goes…