Do you ever feel alone?
So. Fucking. Alone.
So. Fucking. Hopeless.
I shouldn’t be listening to Alice in Chains. I shouldn’t have Layne Staley’s beautifully haunting voice in my head this morning, mirroring my mood. Feeding it. Fueling it. Strengthening it. But it’s an Alice in Chains kind of morning.
I was up too late last night. I took my meds too late. So, though I was quite exhausted, I had a hell of a time getting to sleep. Then one of my cats, the Orange One, decided to go dumpster diving at various times throughout the night. You see, I thoughtlessly left the giant sack of cat food accessible to the cats. I had no idea that the Orange One would bypass his food bowl in favor of climbing up onto the bag and eating out of it instead. That loud crackling, crinkling racket coupled with his munching woke me up no fewer than three times in the night. (Yes, I moved that bag first thing this morning.)
All of this led me to oversleep this morning. Of course. Which fucking sucked, because I had to skip my shower. I like to take one every morning. Helps me feel clean (First World water consumer right here) and is equally important to help me feel awake.
So. I’m “hoping” that those factors combined are why I feel so…subdued…today.
The alternative is far more upsetting.
The alternative is that in spite of the meds and positive changes in my life.
I’m beginning the downward spiral back into a depressive state.
It’s been a while since the slow creeping venomous vine of depression bound me in its grip. Where it cuts and burns and squeezes and binds. Until it enters every orifice and spreads within you like a slow, painful death.
It has hold of you now. You hack and hack and hack away at the vines, but they’re stronger than you are right now. Because the venom of the vine seeps into your body, into your bloodstream, into your very consciousness, into your soul. And the venom?
Lies. Cruelty. Darkness. Hopelessness. Suicide. Worthlessness. Fatigue. Loss. Pain. Malaise. Apathy. Despair. Anger. Hatred. Loathing.
The venom is insidious. But you’re in no state to fight it.
Depression is what we call it.
We want to fight it. We want to break through. We want to break free. But it’s not always so simple, is it? Sometimes it’s simply time. To be depressed.
I hate being a Depressive Person.
I hate having Major Depressive Disorder, Clinical Depression, Bipolar II, PTSD, GAD.
What. The. Fuck. Ever.
Whatever it is. Whatever the labels.
I hate it. I don’t wish to feel this way. I do not choose to feel this way. I do not enjoy it.
But in a strange way, I can at least be thankful.
Because it’s only for the darkness that I’m able to see the light.
If all of my life is spent in sunshine,
Do I recognize it as sunshine?
Can I appreciate it if I don’t know that darkness exists? What it looks like? What it feels like?
If all of my life is spent in darkness,
Can I appreciate the sunshine?
If I don’t know that the sunshine exists,
What gives me hope? What reason have I to persevere? To keep hacking away at those vines?
Perhaps I need the depression.
Perhaps it tempers me.
Perhaps it reminds me what is real.
Even as it tells me lies about myself.
Sometimes it’s the very things I hope for. The very things I cling to. That shift my sunshine into the darkest of nights. Perhaps I want too much. Need to much. Ask too much. Expect too much. Perhaps I am my own undoing.
I want to live a life apart.
I want to escape civilization.
I want to damn expectations.
I don’t give a fuck about elections.
I don’t give a fuck about money.
I don’t give a fuck about fearmongering.
I have zero fucks for celebrity.
I have no interest in things.
I am sick to death of working for the man.
I don’t wish to spend my life rotting in front of television.
I have no desire to tour the den of lies that is Washington, D.C.
I have a big, fat fuck you to societal rules and norms.
Fuck your McMansions.
Fuck your things.
Fuck your self-righteousness.
Fuck your racism.
Fuck your xenophobia.
Fuck your nationalism.
Fuck your ownership.
Fuck your entitlement.
Fuck your judgment.
I want a companion.
I want to explore the wild.
I want to take the road less traveled by.
I want to learn.
I want to question.
I want to observe and absorb.
I want to immerse myself in different cultures.
I want to meet and embrace the other.
I want to see life through your eyes.
I want to hear your perspective.
I want to feel your soul.
I want to reach into you and bathe in your essence.
I want to get lost on purpose.
I want to relish the adventure of finding my way again.
I want to discover the untamed beauties off the beaten path.
I want to make love on a blanket of grass under a sea of stars.
I want to run naked through a meadow of wildflowers.
I want to cleanse myself in unpolluted waters.
I want to giggle for no reason.
I want to belly laugh until it hurts to breathe.
I want to spend hours simply making faces at each other.
I want to have deep, tangential conversations until three A.M.
I want to make a pillow fort and sit in our underwear and tell ghost stories.
I want you to see me and let me see you.
I want to smoke a joint and tell stories in the middle of a rainforest.
I want to wash my face in snow melt and move on.
I want to walk the cobblestones of an ancient city, then get fucked in a dirty old stairwell.
I want to be loved unconditionally.
I want to be allowed to love unconditionally.
I want my quirks to be appreciated.
I want you to see my tears as beautiful.
I want you to let me kiss yours.
I want to live inside your soul.
I want to live.
I want to love.
I want to be free.
The problem is: I don’t think this is too much to ask.
I think: This is the reality that people have been brainwashed to not see.
I want: That which is truly real and meaningful.
And when I don’t have it.
When I can’t have it.
When I am denied it.
Into the depths…
Of my mind.
Of my desires.
Of my aching lack.
Adventure with me.
Learn with me.
Show me something I’ve never seen before.
Let me show you things you’ve never seen.
Let us carve our own reality.
Is this too much to ask?
I think not.
And you know something?
I feel better already.