Today, the words come slowly and with physical effort as I fade in and out of concentration. I know that it has been some time since I last posted. The days went by and time passed, carrying me on in its endless current while I tried to keep my head above water. This motion of days passing by, not really registering a morning or a night, but knowing there is motion, tied in with managing a dynamic or fluid sort of level-headedness where things get done (yes, even with positive/negative emotions attached) in this passing time; this all amounted to a “better” me. A better me standing on seemingly fragile ground. Noting these improvements with a suspicious eye, knowing that something small; a slip, a trip, a catch, a snag can mean another tour of the very portable hell I seem to carry with me – a personalized hell for all occasions; no bias.
The current seems to have brought me full circle, and I find myself where I was. I see it happening; the accumulation of pernicious symptoms of this blasted disease that I can’t seem to eradicate: The fatigue, the lack of appetite, the inability to communicate to others or to concentrate. Feeling low or even nothing, and somehow existing and not at the same time. Vibrating out of sync with life. To top all, the apathy to deal with it. The perfect disease that protects itself. I don’t think I was ever fully out of it, I just seem to have been knocked back the same distance I gained, and have lost the traction to regain it.
And here I am again. Feeling that strong desperation for things not to be the way they are. That feeling of being on my knees and having to beg the powers that be, whatever they are, to take it back because I cannot live like this another day, let alone a lifetime where this can just keep happening if my attention is diverted even just a little. I cannot face a future where this will always be a possibility. And, this will always be a possibility. So, I shut out my future, which makes my present more unbearable because I am convinced I cannot, should not or will not have one (a future), which feeds this disease, which feeds the reality of emotional setbacks in that same future – and so the conflict grows and grows: Depression vs Hope – The endless fight for my fragile soul.
And, I am terrified.