Hindering the Flow

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
A writing that documented my struggle with depression. If you are currently suffering from depression, I encourage you to seek help.

Submitted: January 03, 2010

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Submitted: January 03, 2010



I am fighting my way through the puddles of time.  Through the waters I can feel the mud squishing in between my toes as I try to make my way to the next day; the ticking of the clock pounding within my ears with the universal pendulum mocking my very existence, I cannot go any faster as much as I wish I could.  My heart lies hanging from my chest while my mind is fighting not to flat-line in the ways most would want me to remain alive.  And yet, another part of me is racing towards separation from all humanity through too much understanding and too much realization.  I cannot stop what is happening to me, and although sometimes I want to lay down and die I cannot allow myself to quit.

Life quickly swirls around me; making me physically nauseous from the sight and feeling chilled from the winds of its passing.  I wrap myself in a blanket in my bed, hoping to block out the chills of life and love.  Sometimes I wonder if the tears upon my pillow will freeze up and remain as just another physical reminder of the pain, but by morning they always fade and the pain remains within my mind.  All physical reminders fade eventually, I suppose, but if my mind could show the scars I bet there would be so many there, so much of my heart cut out, so much of my mind beaten and bloodied, that it could not even stand without the support of my skull.

Move on…  move on…  the more I move, the more I get knocked around.  Stillness is peace, silence can kill but silence is comfort.  I cannot embrace either, I have too much desire and sometimes I wonder if it is my desire that is killing me the most.  Beware the thinker, the feeler, the self-anointed martyr, the package deal comes with a price and if you encounter me do not wish for my knowledge, my understanding, or you may find yourself dressed in a garment of tears and blood with the lingering stench of fear, failure, and cheap escapes you take to not feel the pain.  Observe, do not pity; lend me your shoulder, not your heart, I do not want to hurt you.

In the distance I can hear a faint melody.  Perhaps it is a giant opus beckoning me towards some sort of grounds in which I can finally live and remain happy for a while, where I can rest my heart and peruse my dreams with the energy of a child gazing upon opportunity for the first time.  Then again, it might just be another movement written in minor mode, a continuation of life as I know it now: the notes slapping me as I try to move on to the next phrase, the coda of the experience, the next movement hoping it will be something of a more pleasant tone.  I would like to meet the conductor, no better yet the composer of this piece and have words with him for choosing me to be the driving force within the metronome that allows this performance to go on as it is!

The waters become still as I stop for a moment to separate my vision from the individual inside to the whole, the complete universal picture this place creates for me.  Finding hope underneath the visual is not as hard as it was once seen, although it is still a difficult task.  Living within the metaphors of sadness, weird karma, and some sense of fate do not seem as convoluted when one realizes the opportunity to overcome all is somewhere within the illusions of life. 

I close my eyes and escape unto these illusions, through the dreams of reality and sleep to find my hope.  In my dreams I can overcome and have the strength to do as I please to find my way out of this seemingly endless pit of nothingness.  In the day, I can slip away through the illusions created by man, to the heart of all that distorts visions of reality.  It is here I can destroy these perceptions to overcome all that holds my down and finally set my path to all that I need to become what I desire.  However, I am surrounded by those who have made these illusions life and have found comfort within their created truths, and it is them who hold me from finding my hope through shattering all these illusions.

Through the waters I can feel the mud squishing in between my toes as I try to make my way to the next day, yet again.  The clock still ticks in my ears, the universal pendulum still mocks me, life still moves on at its pace, and in the distance I can still hear that faint melody…  these pictures, these sounds, both illusion and reality are here with me…  I must find my hope within what I am given and move on through these puddles of time.

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