To the first time of my sufferings to now, have I wallowed in self-pity and drug myself out of the hole of contempt. In my weakest moments do I inadvertently fall right back into that blasphemous hole of despair, where I sit down and have a cup of tea with Pity and Hopelessness, to whom we have fanatical discussions of life and the world's meaning. Yet, time and again, do I leave the tea party and climb back up to the surface to revel in the light of everything but to that, I keep a sense of aloofness which shut off my emotions. For when I feel, I'm back to sipping green tea and discussing depressing things of my life.
I have grown and changed in so many ways, but still there is the child that I have hidden away in me that is locked in my heart to keep all of me from tumbling out into one big mess. Though my break downs are naught and far, do I dispirit to the rampart of my mind and recess in all of living to keep myself 'whole'.
So much have changed so fast that I resist the urge to scream at night all of my misgivings and grievances for I had all and lost it. To now, I condemn myself to loneliness and anger, as Depression, that snake, coils so slyly around me that I am caught in my own entrapment.
No longer do I live as myself but as 'someone' that I do not know. I can see the face of my reflection but the definite chin and cerulean hazed eyes do I recognize no one, but the sad mournful look of aging. All these memories tie down my heart into the past as the path to the future adverts my gaze, where only the 'present' becomes ticking moments of another hour; of another year.
Maybe I could say I was left behind by Time, that moves so steadily forward, but do I recall still living those days and minutes. So now, it is only my mind that is backwards from has gone forwards, in the circles I have spun myself in.
So as I lay my head to sleep and open my eyes to wake, have I sat up and wept from just the burden of living when so many have I known have left. Through the dryness of my tears and frantic heaving of my chest do I mutter to myself,
“Where do I go from here?”