it's easy to forget that depression, or any other mood related disorder, is... just a diagnostic term. a label cannot communicate the experience:
it's the feeling, tolerating it, or its lack thereof,
the weight of the world
confused, disoriented,
overwhelming, intolerable,
empty feeling,
numb feeling.
grief, anger and panic comes and goes;
dislocated mind's melancholy stays,
keeps spinning around the body's hearth,
makes doubt its home.
big demon doubt's grossness:
questioning if I can get off the couch before 5pm.
feeling vaguely perceived,
little devil doubt's nihilism,
difficult to describe, insidious,
the subtle ever-present hatred you just can't put your finger on.
without respite, as if always felt and all-consuming:
how could it be bearable?
loathsome and pervasive:
when will it end?
loitering hopelessness:
won't it end?
feeling, overwhelmed, beyond control;
feeling, powerless, helplessness runs the show.
distracted from life's truth,
annihilation's empty promise creeps in:
the disturbing fantasies of relief,
imagining a terrible weight relieved,
of the pressure trapped inside this shell of a skull,
that can only help when imaging the end is the only thing less painful than
feeling in the present
the kind of things that makes depression what it is.
for Adam.
Happy birthday, from stranger to stranger! -M B
[edited to fix typos, because, however endearing it may be, a birthday message shouldn't have so many typos]
Fiddleback
@Fiddleback Outpost @Southern Gent @VANCE
swonut
@Cohutta @NOLA
ndmiller
