Every once in a while, whatever self control I have to hold back my depression takes a hike. I’ve lived long enough with it to think that’s pretty normal since for the most part, keeping things together in my head takes a lot out from me. It’s not without some form of physical stress like the constant chest pains, the deepening joint aches and of course, the ever present migraines.
These days though, whatever is left of my self control has been taking more and more walks. A sign that I’m either finally losing it or there is too much burden on me right now to warrant constant vigilance on my fragile state of mind.
Usually, it isn’t a cause for concern. Things like this come and go without people noticing it. What worries me is how deep into the depression I have been going. It’s not moment that I want to be free from everything. It’s not everyday that am tempted to just let go. Yet the thoughts that occupy my mind, as frightening and disapproving as they are to the people that know of it, is a comforting security blanket to the turbulent and chaotic thoughts that scream at those moments of despair.
Does it frighten me? No. I have made my peace for being shuffled loose the mortal coil a long time ago. What the walking dead can do is to live whatever remaining years they have left with as much zeal that normal people take for granted. Maybe there is another way to live than just being dead to the world, if there were such a way, I wasn’t raised to believe it, let alone appreciate its subtle beauty the way people describe it to me.
My only regret is that my presence here, in this world, is still taken for granted. People never realize until it’s too late and for what it’s worth, the only person I can rely on to keep myself moving is, myself. There is no one to fall back to. No one to whom I can confide in. No one to simply ask, understand and accept. No one in this perception of an existence to call a friend.
Perhaps until then, I can never rest until I’ve gained a measure of presence that can’t be ignored. I can never be free of whatever darkness inhabiting my mind until I know that it doesn’t have to come to losing my self control and tearing my mind apart for someone to drop by and say hello.
In the world, my world of solitude and a battle of wills between sanity and madness, maybe the cure is simpler than talking to a shrink or popping pills. While cruelly out of reach, maybe salvation and redemption is in company of friends that show no pity or guilt to the walking time bomb of my mind. Friends that never leave me long enough to come to that. Friends that never open always open conversation with “I need your help”.
In the subtle beauty of a world that people have shown me, that is an ideal world I want to live in. But none of us live in our ideal world. At least, not until we make something of it. At least not until the end of the road where there is nothing left to lose…
…and nothing left to give.