Clarity

Dear Self,

It's amazing what a good cry can do. Thanks.

Where do we go from here?

There has been an uneasy truce going on for a while, and it feels as though I'm just waiting for a catalyst. I have noticed that everything has felt dimmer and sharper at the same time. I'm not sure what this means; I'm not getting a bad feeling about it, which worries me a little.

On a more concrete note: I watched the PBS documentary "Depression: Out of the Shadows" (http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/takeonestep/depression/about.html) on Wednesday and thought that it was beautifully done. I highly recommend it to anyone who wants to understand more about depression. I'll try to post a more comprehensive review later, perhaps by updating this post.

I'm currently working on a poem/song. (I say poem/song because in my head, it's set to a tune.) I like it.

Back to falsity.

Two poems in an hour

Absurd, irrational anger knows no face
At which to scream, to hurl, to disgrace;
And in the waking of abrupt alarm,
This rage grows, unfettered, to harm.

But soft! This savage beast needs to be tamed
To avert destruction of innocuous objects unnamed
And return to a state of still waters, tranquil,
In appearance at least (there's not near enough goodwill).

Back to its cage, this emotion is repressed.
The snarls are quieted from this unwanted guest
And all that remains is an emptiness within:
A drained husk flashing a false grin.

---

The seconds tick by, and you think I don't know
That green is grass and white is snow?
That every minute gone can't be replaced?
That time is a treasure and waste a disgrace?

Why must you make it harder than it already is?
I know my faults well; shall I enumerate a list?
This isn't a problem that can be solved by reason;
I've tried that (to my never-ending frustration).

The guilt eats at me every day,
Every moment, in every way.
Self-pity? A bit, but not enough to rate;
It's the self-hatred that suffocates.

Alas, poor Yorick!

You are deemed guilty of letting
Truth to be stretched like a season
Of soaps, as though the world turns
Around you. Must life have reason?
There is no rhythm to neither
Your deceit nor your cowardly tears.
And yet, is it a lie? Or perhaps
It's the truth hidden beneath fear.
For your words are threadbare and
Tolerance wanes and there is nothing
To give voice, to breathe out a cry
For... something. Anything.

Nausea

I feel ill. And possibly suicidal. But hey, Bono says:

And if the night runs over
And if the day won't last
And if your way should falter
Along this stony pass

It's just a moment
This time will pass.

-- U2, "Stuck In A Moment You Can't Get Out Of"

Confusion

Not two hours ago, I was all set to post a nice miserable entry about my ongoing battle with myself, and how I'm losing.

Not thirty minutes ago, I was ready to put up a heartwarming entry on finding hope in the darkest of places, and the resilience of human nature, and not being a quitter.

Well, I'm not nearly as emo as I was two hours ago. Neither am I as hopeful as I was half an hour ago. I'm somewhere in between, and I hope that this is a baseline mood that can be maintained for the next month. If it gets worse than this, all the pressure will cause me to crack like a raw egg. Running yolks will ensue.

I'm trying to make light of the situation, but really, honestly, I'm tired.

Yet do I fear thy nature

Buzz Saw's comment on Akubi's post (Seal Hunt Starts in Less than 3 Days) was:
I don't see how anyone could kill such a cute, defenseless, and pitiful looking animal. Such sad eyes.

This affected me deeply. In a bad way. Because I find it quite easy to believe that a human being could kill, would kill "such a cute, defenseless, and pitiful looking animal". Without remorse, even. Some might see it as a job. Some might feel a dark thrill.

It's a sickening thought. Extremely disturbing. And my greatest fear.

This is all not good, very bad, absolutely horrible timing.