The Darkness, The madness, The endless death
'Breathe...breathe...please breathe...don't die on me now! Please breathe!"
There I was again, laying motionless on the carpet cradling my knees tightly against my chest, a tear runs from my right eye; across the bridge of my nose, connects with the tear welling up in my left eye, and they run slowly down the side of my cheek and then...There's nothing. My tears dry up almost as quickly as they started flowing, and all that's left is the beast.
The beast, that beast called melancholy... It has captured my soul again and its has started eating away at my emotions, that merciless beast that creeps in just when I think that I am okay, that I am finally cured, that I am finally sane.
When I think I'm finally sane, that's when it sneaks in, breaking every bone in my body, every bit of strength I build up over time that beast demolishes and crushes in a split second.
I have been Here a million times before, and one time I wrote:
"I want to feel, I want to feel! "
I want to heal,
I want to feel,
Not just anger, not just rage, this fear is a cage,"
And for while after I had put those words onto paper, I had been feeling better. I thought that, that was the dawn of a new age, cause the fear had faded, the rage had faded too...but something worse came along, this...emptiness that bore an even darker shade of melancholy,
The kind of melancholy that won't allow me to even just cry by myself, I can't show emotions even to just myself...all I feel is this pressure in my chest, like I am about to explode, then I Fall to the ground then I curl up and die, that's what I call it, death by melancholy.. For my mind becomes undone and to try and feel something, anything....I usually self destructed...
But that was until I found the wine, my scarlet...I love her for she weakens the walls and let's me cry, she helps me find release,most of the time.. But at times even scar can't break through the melancholy and I lie there hopeless, pained, and then I lose myself completely.
"Scissors, wrist, slit...blood, taste, drain away the pain..., dead"
And the next morning, there I am sprawled out on that old brown carpet again, I pick myself up, shower, dress up, put on my baggy jeans and shirt, wear a smile and I walk out into the world, I'm okay again...I am alive again,
I am fine until it happens again, I have lived to die another day.
There I was again, laying motionless on the carpet cradling my knees tightly against my chest, a tear runs from my right eye; across the bridge of my nose, connects with the tear welling up in my left eye, and they run slowly down the side of my cheek and then...There's nothing. My tears dry up almost as quickly as they started flowing, and all that's left is the beast.
The beast, that beast called melancholy... It has captured my soul again and its has started eating away at my emotions, that merciless beast that creeps in just when I think that I am okay, that I am finally cured, that I am finally sane.
When I think I'm finally sane, that's when it sneaks in, breaking every bone in my body, every bit of strength I build up over time that beast demolishes and crushes in a split second.
I have been Here a million times before, and one time I wrote:
"I want to feel, I want to feel! "
I want to heal,
I want to feel,
Not just anger, not just rage, this fear is a cage,"
And for while after I had put those words onto paper, I had been feeling better. I thought that, that was the dawn of a new age, cause the fear had faded, the rage had faded too...but something worse came along, this...emptiness that bore an even darker shade of melancholy,
The kind of melancholy that won't allow me to even just cry by myself, I can't show emotions even to just myself...all I feel is this pressure in my chest, like I am about to explode, then I Fall to the ground then I curl up and die, that's what I call it, death by melancholy.. For my mind becomes undone and to try and feel something, anything....I usually self destructed...
But that was until I found the wine, my scarlet...I love her for she weakens the walls and let's me cry, she helps me find release,most of the time.. But at times even scar can't break through the melancholy and I lie there hopeless, pained, and then I lose myself completely.
"Scissors, wrist, slit...blood, taste, drain away the pain..., dead"
And the next morning, there I am sprawled out on that old brown carpet again, I pick myself up, shower, dress up, put on my baggy jeans and shirt, wear a smile and I walk out into the world, I'm okay again...I am alive again,
I am fine until it happens again, I have lived to die another day.
I know this feeling too well. I love this. And I am happy that you continue to live to love another day, because as survivors we are beyond fighting
ReplyDeleteYes we are....thanks Ros :)
ReplyDeleteDeeply moved,thank you for your courage.
ReplyDelete