Things that make me happy


Things that make me happy:
1.
2.
3.

That’s how I feel right now.

I can’t rightly say that I’m still depressed– I feel fine most of the time, I’m functional, I’m not moping, I’m not moody, I’m not sad or upset or emotional. I go about my day as per normal. I know things can get much worse than this, have been much worse than this, but I’m not in that ditch any more and I don’t ever want to go back.

Yet it isn’t clear where I am. Some barren wasteland? A no man’s land between deep ditches?

There is nothing in my life right now that I can think of that makes me truly happy. Nothing in my life right now gets me excited or motivated. Everything is awash with this blanket of… pointlessness. Emptiness.

It’s not even as if I’m languishing– I’m doing my best to keep myself moderately occupied. It’s important to stay in touch with friends, right? To read books, watch shows, play music, draw, keep up with learning a new language, go out, buy new things, exercise, travel… so yeah, I try to do some of everything. Prove to myself that I’m living and not wasting my life away. Enough to facebook-pretend. I’m not the kind who needs lots of activities to be satisfied, anyway. Yet, all that I do– including getting out of bed in the morning– I do because I’m supposed to, and not because I want to. Sure, I don’t have to drag and force myself out of bed, but neither do I look forward to the day.

I may not need five hundred friends and activities everyday, but I do need something. What? Even when I think I know, how do I get it?

Or is that fallacious thinking– to assume that this one thing is going to miraculously solve your whole life? That this one thing is what will give your life meaning and purpose?

That doesn’t sound like meaning– it sounds like a crutch.

I do not know what I have to do, or what I can do, to end this reign of emptiness. How do I find my way out of this wasteland?

I may not be feeling sad at the moment. But to know that there is nothing right now that can make me happy– truly happy– that’s perhaps one of the saddest things there is.

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When the world turns dark


I realize I imagine it still– slitting my wrists. No, not exactly; not so much that action of slitting as the sensation of having your wrist slit. A numbing, tingling sensation and hands going cold, limp and weak.

I’m so angry– angry at the world, angry at everyone for being such a disappointment. But most of all, angry at myself, and thats’s the worst of all, the one that makes everything else crumble.

What is the point of it?

Too often, it is. The number of times I wish to disappear. Too often, to not exist. Too often, that there’s no point. Feeling too helpless, useless and trapped.

Not.


Reality seeps
through my fingers.
I am
not.

One foot, then another
moving but going nowhere.
Unseeing eyes
unsmiling smiles.
Pumping blood
without a heartbeat.

They’ve turned from
a misplaced reality
into fading memories
ashen grey and almost-but-can’t
forgotten

Reality was taken
but was not replaced.
I am
not.

Demon I


Everyday
A demon whispers in my ear.

you don’t want to live
he breathes
you don’t want to be here
you don’t want this, any of this

imagine the blade
across your skin
silently slice, slice, slice
again, again.
hypnotizing comfort.

imagine the height
imagine the flight
what a rush!
of adrenaline and wind

Along the streets and roads
come and crash us down, come on.
Around the corners
sudden headlights and screech of brakes, come on.

what else does he say to me?
no one cares.
what else does he say?
you’re as alone as can be.
its echo-y in my head

((no one cares))(caress)(caresss))
((you’re alone))(alone)(lone..))

you don’t want to live
he coos
your life, so dead. empty. meaningless.
there’s nothing here. 

Everyday
A demon whispers in my ear.

Battling Demons (That feeling)


that feeling
on the edge
almost coming

fighting, fighting
fighting the demons (of self)
fighting the darkness
fighting back tears.

sharp smells
bright lights
memory is like smell and taste
can’t quite pin it down
describing never does it justice
but it’s so strong, so poignant.

fighting back thoughts.

that feeling:
all consuming
an emotion morphed
and spilling over
into sensation

that feeling
suffocating, all around
pressing in, closing in
can’t
breath

that feeling
like it’s
not worth moving
not worth opening
your eyes
not worth breathing
not worth living

that feeling
so unbearable
that a mental scramble
for remedies
leaves you thinking
only this:

chop off my head
just wanna chop off my head
surely that would make me feel better
make the thinking
and the memories
and the almost-crying
and the want-to-dying
stop

or just dig a hole in my chest
both sound good
sounds like comfort.
whichever’s faster, easier
quick, do it, quick!

fortunately
perhaps surviving confers immunity
perhaps having gone through it once
it’s lost some power
lost some effect
you get numb, maybe.
you get bored, maybe.
you think, i’ve seen this before.
I can get out.

fortunately
it’s much less
all consuming now
it’s much less.

fortunately
i feel it coming
but just hovering at the edge
and i battle not to let it in.

i’m never.
going back there.

demons, away!
be gone.

leave me in peace.