Week 26: Sated
I want to be sated. I want to be filled up with love, and joy, and comfort, and peace. I want to forget what it was ever like to not feel these things, to forget what it's like to feel their opposites: anger, and misery, and tension, and this constant, pervasive gloom.
I've come close to thinking that state of peace doesn't really exist, for anyone. That those who claim they have it are merely liars, deluding themselves as much as anyone else into thinking they have achieved peace and bliss. They haven't, not really--they only tell themselves that out of fear, fear of the same endless despair I feel right now. They are terrified of this feeling, as well they should be, and so they lie and paint false smiles on their faces to protect themselves from the unbearable truth: that they are alone, as we all are, and will never be anything else.
They could never be as happy as they claim. It isn't possible. It isn't possible for me to believe that they truly feel what they say they feel, not when I see such misery blotting out the landscape to the horizon, no matter what direction I turn my eyes--there is no room for joy in this land, no place where it might touch down and not be consumed by evil and pain, like ants swarming over a dead carcass. This earth I stand on has been forever tainted by that same poison that courses through my veins, and will never be fertile again.
And yet I know this all must be untrue.
I know because I can recall being so happy: once, a long time ago, even as recently as a week ago. A time when peace and comfort were my friends. Then it did not seem a dream; then I could stand, and breathe easily, and recall how it felt to be here, in the land I stand now. Because I have felt this way before; I have been consumed with this same sorrow and frantic, mindless terror, and have found my way to a green glen, where I could sit in shaded brooks and let my heart rest. Such things were true before; they must be true now.
I wonder how I got here, to hell, from that peaceful heaven. More crucially, I wonder how I can get back, what path I followed before, and if it could still be there.
Depression really fucks me up; once I think I'm out of its maw, it comes back and bites me again. And again. And then again.
I wouldn't wish this damned thing on anyone.
I've come close to thinking that state of peace doesn't really exist, for anyone. That those who claim they have it are merely liars, deluding themselves as much as anyone else into thinking they have achieved peace and bliss. They haven't, not really--they only tell themselves that out of fear, fear of the same endless despair I feel right now. They are terrified of this feeling, as well they should be, and so they lie and paint false smiles on their faces to protect themselves from the unbearable truth: that they are alone, as we all are, and will never be anything else.
They could never be as happy as they claim. It isn't possible. It isn't possible for me to believe that they truly feel what they say they feel, not when I see such misery blotting out the landscape to the horizon, no matter what direction I turn my eyes--there is no room for joy in this land, no place where it might touch down and not be consumed by evil and pain, like ants swarming over a dead carcass. This earth I stand on has been forever tainted by that same poison that courses through my veins, and will never be fertile again.
And yet I know this all must be untrue.
I know because I can recall being so happy: once, a long time ago, even as recently as a week ago. A time when peace and comfort were my friends. Then it did not seem a dream; then I could stand, and breathe easily, and recall how it felt to be here, in the land I stand now. Because I have felt this way before; I have been consumed with this same sorrow and frantic, mindless terror, and have found my way to a green glen, where I could sit in shaded brooks and let my heart rest. Such things were true before; they must be true now.
I wonder how I got here, to hell, from that peaceful heaven. More crucially, I wonder how I can get back, what path I followed before, and if it could still be there.
Depression really fucks me up; once I think I'm out of its maw, it comes back and bites me again. And again. And then again.
I wouldn't wish this damned thing on anyone.