Huh, I Can’t Name This Untitled

I’m reaching out. I’m doing what they say to do. Because I get it. I really thought that I was stronger but turns out I don’t really care. Because it doesn’t matter how strong I am. Someone will see that strength as a weakness and they are damn well going to make us all believe like them.

I can totally see it- the moment (that wasn’t really a moment, but a lifetime) where I broke. I guess I gotta hope that this is another moment, and, too, shall pass… but pass into what? The next moment is just as hopeless as this one. Delivered from one hopeless moment to the next- who cares if this, too, shall pass? I’m being assaulted by the world around me, repeatedly, and I cannot find my people.

Am I trying to get attention? You betcha. Or call attention to, rather. Because this is all I know how to do to deal and I’m in the middle of a depressive episode that I don’t see how to get out of. I don’t care to defend myself, I don’t care to do anything other than share this experience.

I don’t care to keep passing from one moment to the next. The last time this happened, it was the quit-smoking drugs. Now I have nothing to blame it on. Uh-oh. Shouldn’t that be terrifying? Is it? I’m not sure how blind I am to what’s going on inside me, or what kind of barriers I’ve constructed to keep my emotions in check. But it doesn’t physically feel bad. And it is easier on my brain, for sure. And my emotions are definitely not in check, so the barrier is crumbling. This hurts. Looking at it hurts. It feels like I’m past my point and well, that’s it.