Depression is hard to recover from because as much as you don’t choose to stay miserable, it feels like a choice between staying miserable or faking it.
And the faking in of itself takes its toll on you when inside you’re anything but okay.
Depression makes it, so you also don’t see the point in recovery because, after all, you think that life is pointless anyway.
That, along with trying to fake it, is the ultimate struggle.
If life is pointless, why bother recovering?
I come up against this all the time.
People say Depression lies to you.
I say it doesn’t.
Who is right?
Obviously, I think I’m right. Depression tells us the ultimate truth that life is pointless in the grand scheme of things.
I’m always fighting this struggle inside; I can’t remember a time when I didn’t.
I don’t beat myself up for the same things as others, generally speaking, not to say I never do, I have my moments, but they’re few and far between. I don’t beat myself up over a lack of success. Success never mattered to me because life is too pointless for it to matter.
But what I do beat myself up time and again for is not going through with the ultimate expression of this pointlessness, for being a coward for not doing it.
Some nights it haunts me that I am too scared to do the one act that makes logical sense in the scheme of things.
What does that fear and anxiety mean? That underneath it all, I truly want to live? That’s what I’m always told. ‘It’s a sign you want to live.’ ‘It’s because you want the pain to be over, not your life.’
But what if it really is just a case of cowardice? I have been a coward much of my life, never mind being able to do the ultimate act to oneself.
Weird how cowardly a person can be while also feeling so utterly Depressed.
It’s a weird thing, too, because Depression can be an empty, numb feeling and too much pain. Either oscillating between feeling so numb you could be accused of managing to be ‘stoic’ only because you feel so little there is nothing to express, or you’re so distraught in life people tell you to calm down.
I’m tired of life It’s always full of emptiness we fill our time with TV And any other screens moving wallpaper over the teeth underneath that grind us
Tonight I don’t care for that nature’s green it’s all a rollercoaster ride beneath those canopies pain and suffering hide At least in winter, it’s plain to see illusions revealing their skeletal remains
A butterfly isn’t beautiful it’s a flutter of a moment it’s death painted pretty A blackbirds song isn’t melodic it’s desperation dressed as music trying to hang onto dear life and I have to ask, why?
A dying field mouse was the catalyst For the tears turning to diamonds Under the pressure of unrelease An apologetic surrendering To my failure to be a hero My humanity drifting me apart A wedge between me and my kind A bridge I can’t cross To look you in the eyes And become a part of the rat race I despise That mouses black beady eyes The abyss I looked into Forever looking back
Is there anywhere I can be someone else I’m tired of being wrapped up in myself but I’ve seen out there and seen the earth laid bare it’s too much for me all I see is death looking back at me mirroring my decisions and indecisions falling into the abyss of those eye sockets
Survival instinct is my enemy he’s always there when I try to be free there was a moment when I thought the end would come but he kicked out and I survived another fight My survival instinct is my enemy why won’t he listen to these thoughts in my head I want to be returned to the earth again
I am too small and the world much too big put me in a house made from books instead of bricks leaving everything to the imagination with broken spines as a sign of worlds well lived don’t leave me here constrained in this broken body in bits and the mind inside that is folded a million times to fit I can’t hold myself together alone untethered in this storm like a flag surrendering in the wind comfort me with silk weaved wit and imagery feed this insatiable hunger for something to lift me from this black, black hole don’t let me fall back to dust all alone.