I’ve wasted part of my day crying in a parking lot of a grocery store, feeling I will never be worthy of anything except a job that I’m miserable at, and paying bills for the rest of my life.
When I looked inside the mirror today, I felt like smashing open my rib cage and pulling out my heart. Reaching inside and wondering why it kept beating for someone like me. I want to trace my fingers against the contours of its pericardium, feel the rhythm of life bumping against my palm.
Your heart is the size of your fist, is what they say… But the weight within that organ is enough to drown the universe itself.
The narrow end of the spear that makes a crack in the sky. Causing the catastrophic landslide that pours out the heavens, and opens a ravine to the universe above.
Lie to me sweet moon,
keep to your cover.
So that dawn will break with a smooth entrance and you weep with stardust.
I’ve been so uninspired for so long… My surroundings have definitely caused a rift between my heart and being responsible. I’m searching for the magic that lays beneath the flesh and bone cage in my chest.
Beat bravely again for me. Roar loud for me to come running through the darkness that has chained me. Shine a light for me to follow, I wish to reunite with you again.
And there are days that my anxiety chokes me, holds me down, and drowns me in its poison. I end up inhaling every bit of its toxicity, and swallow all of the suffering that comes with it.
I feel ashamed. So damn ashamed of what it can do to me…. and I can’t control it. It throws itself over me like a blanket. It bundles me inside a cold, dark, and empty embrace.
I feel helpless to it, and I fear it won’t get better at times. When I finally pull myself from its deadly grasp, there will be no victorious shouts of triumph. No applause for fighting against an enemy that was born within yourself.
Don’t worry love… Don’t cry for too long. You’ll be okay, and you’ll breathe again. Just remember at the end of this fight…
You’ll breathe again.
There’s a lot that has come into my life and sought to destroy me. Whether it’s physical or psychological
I looked at the sky, both in contrast to its light and dark side
And even the period when darkness meets light, twilight.
I wonder as I wander through these lives if there is a real place of peace
The world has become so black and white that everyone forgets the gray
Until you’re forced to look at the full picture from a broken down state of dismay
Flashes of childhood to adulthood, whether they’re good or bad memories come to life
Like an old movie projector in technicolor
And you’re left there to watch all of your life and contemplate what have you come up to and become at this point
Did you make enough friends
Did you learn enough
Did you try to be more nice
The most important question when the movie stops playing…
Did you really learn the skill of how to live?
And the answer you get is mostly
As it echoes loudly in silence
And everything shatters
And falls like stars in to the backdrop of night
You’re walking through that death of realization
The gas light of stars so minuscule
That the path before you is nothing but a hazy black
And you aren’t sure where you’re walking anymore
You fall off the land completely
You fall and keep rolling in that darkness
Suffocating, crying, and feeling pain
Terrified because you cannot see what is ahead
And your choices are whether you want to live or lay down and die
And you’re fighting between the two choices
Can you keep going even though it’s painful?
Or do you want to rest, knowing it means dying?
You can rest a little but not long enough for it to let it suffocate you
You keep tumbling
You keep falling
Until your knees hit the ground, and your hands are before you
There’s so much pain
Agonizing, crying, and loneliness
That you keep staring at the ground for so long that
You realizing you’ve stopped rolling
And when you finally look up
The sky is before you
The stars are your memories
Your reasons to keep going
Because you’ve painted the sky
With your everything
You’ve done more than what you ever thought you could
That the darkest shadows come out to show you
There’s always another sky to paint
In between the black and white
And another world to create
As long as you’re willing to keep going
Take small breaths
You’ve built yourself stronger than anyone else knows
Dear adventurer of life
The world’s you build inside you are only seen
When you can look inside
And make your own skies
Depression is an unmade bed. It’s a reminder that I’m not normal, and that I will never be. Staring at the tousled sheets and pillows falling everywhere, it’s heartbreaking to stare at how I strive so much to gain control of everything; even if it’s making a bed. Whenever I’m succumbed with the weight of depression, I can’t get out of bed, and that’s when the monsters in my head come after me.
It’s those mornings I wake up unwell and exhausted because my thoughts kept me up through the night, even when I shouldn’t have anything to worry about. I feel like my sole existence is detrimental to myself and people around me, and it even sometimes comes to a point where I feel I am better off dead. That’s a sad way to live, it’s a harsh reality to me, knowing that I can’t even handle myself.
For years, and years I had perfected this mask of being a strong willed and charismatic character who could do anything I put my mind to. When hidden behind this facade I was afraid of anything, everything, and even the mask I wore to protect others from seeing what I truly am. I was facing demons outside and letting the ones inside consume my sanity.
This is a curse.
Have you ever heard of ‘Fly Me to the Moon’ by Frank Sinatra? It’s an oldie that I can never pass up, no matter how out-dated it sounds to today’s society. Asking a lover to send you out of orbit, and fill your skies with stars and comets. That’s a timeless love that even I can only dream about, or write in my notes. Stars as memories, shooting stars as memories streaking the night. The vast ocean of the universe, ours to fill with our love, and the earth our bed.
I am a skilled actor; I jest. I’m truly a very good liar. Why? Because if I were to tell the truth, that working 80+ hours a week, being a full time student, merried with high functioning anxiety and depressive disorder causes me to feel so exhausted every end of the work week. I’m called lazy as hell, or that I’m a whined and I need to grow up and put my big girl pants on.
I’ve learned first hand, second hand, and third hand, that telling the honest truth about why I need to come in later for work or even take a day off from work will cause people to shun me. I’ve seen the look on their faces when I openly told the truth and was told it was all in my head. I’ve been always had someone make my reasons feel invalidated by statements like these:
‘Well, I’ve had a bad day too but I’m still working hard.’
‘I get tired too, you just have to pull through it, it’s all in your head.’
Well that’s just it. It is all in my head, because my anxiety and depression monsters love playing tag and jumping up and down on the cushions of my brain. Wreaking havoc and destruction on my concentration, deliberately dangling normalcy in front of me like a piece of meat but then jerking it away when I want some semblance of peace.
It’s hard to express that I am not okay, it hurts so much to tell someone the truth. Because I’ve already seen so many witch hunts on people who suffer like I do, we suffer in silence because we feel invalid by our illnesses.
That is why, I am a liar.