harvest home
Each year around this time - though its not limited 2 this time - the pumpkin comes upon me. A lantern is left just outside my door and my simple touching of it tells it 2 guide me 2 another room in the halloween acid house.
But this year, so far anyway, the pumpkin has yet 2 find me.
I'm by no means "cured" of whatever mental trouble ppl assume causes its (the pumpkin) visit. My moods, though far less intense, r still there... Deep and intense in their feeling or lack thereof. But my ability 2 feel the leaves of the conifer has been stifled... Repressed... Disconnected.
I never had 2 try 2 feel the house. I never had 2 worry as 2 whether or not I'd walk down one of its many corridors or find yet another wonderful room.
But this year - so far, anyway - I cannot feel a thing.
Its like the moment u realize in your grief that ur pain might subside soon and u fear ur forget your dead friend of relative.
I long for it.
It helped me.
But the blahness of mundane life envelopes me. Somedays making me depressed beyond imagination. Other days numb and bored. And others still, tearful and floating aimlessly; scared about the nothingness around me.
I wana throw a rock thru the HAH window and jump in - cutting myself on the glass shards be damned.
But I can't even find the path.
I never had 2 leave breadcrumbs before...
If its this one med that has killed it - has castrated it from me - can I live a life on this med then? Forever cut off from the only beautiful part of my mind?
It never got in the way of work or school. The depression does that. And that still lingers even tho just by way of dysthymia not major dep.
I want my halloween acid house. I want my pumpkins, and harvest moons.
I wana go home
But this year, so far anyway, the pumpkin has yet 2 find me.
I'm by no means "cured" of whatever mental trouble ppl assume causes its (the pumpkin) visit. My moods, though far less intense, r still there... Deep and intense in their feeling or lack thereof. But my ability 2 feel the leaves of the conifer has been stifled... Repressed... Disconnected.
I never had 2 try 2 feel the house. I never had 2 worry as 2 whether or not I'd walk down one of its many corridors or find yet another wonderful room.
But this year - so far, anyway - I cannot feel a thing.
Its like the moment u realize in your grief that ur pain might subside soon and u fear ur forget your dead friend of relative.
I long for it.
It helped me.
But the blahness of mundane life envelopes me. Somedays making me depressed beyond imagination. Other days numb and bored. And others still, tearful and floating aimlessly; scared about the nothingness around me.
I wana throw a rock thru the HAH window and jump in - cutting myself on the glass shards be damned.
But I can't even find the path.
I never had 2 leave breadcrumbs before...
If its this one med that has killed it - has castrated it from me - can I live a life on this med then? Forever cut off from the only beautiful part of my mind?
It never got in the way of work or school. The depression does that. And that still lingers even tho just by way of dysthymia not major dep.
I want my halloween acid house. I want my pumpkins, and harvest moons.
I wana go home