Ever felt so broken that nothing can fix you? So shattered that you couldn’t put Humpty Dumpty back together again, even if you wanted to?
Have you ever had anyone fix you? Someone who ran around for weeks and months trying to pick up the pieces of your tattered soul? I did. I felt destroyed before her. Like there was nothing on the inside. She’s gone now, and her leaving made me realise that there really was nothing on the inside. I actually thought she’d fixed me. Not the half assed job that any dipshit in a suit with a PHD was capable of. No, really fixed me. I’d go days at a time feeling immensely happy, and weeks at time without the thought of suicide even crossing my mind. I found a part of myself that had been torn away by the depression and the bipolar and the unloving parents and the relentless bullies throughout school and the fake friends who bled me dry, and all because of her. I felt safe. I felt whole. I felt FUCKING HAPPY. But people like us, we’re not built to be happy. No one cares if the rug wants to be walked on. I-we- are the rug. Walked on day after day and not a single soul could give a fuck. Who cares about us?
I appreciate you taking time out to read my rants or stabs at poetry, but I’m really sick of feeling empty and cold. So, if you don’t hear from me again, you’ll know what I’ve done.
Happy travels, folks
1 comment
A lot of depressive / anxiety problems stem from being alienated from who you are – from picking up weird, self-defeating ideals and spending enormous amounts of time maintaining the effects of pursuing those ideals. Rugs don’t walk on rugs and if we’re all rugs, there would be nobody to walk on any of us. I only say that because people are all of the same kind, from the Ph.D to the janitor cleaning the classroom.
There’s some mix of darkness and light in everybody; nobody is ever 100% happy, or 100% sad, or 100% angry, but there is a constant flux, a confluence of everything, swirling together like a whirlwind – have you ever witnessed a hurricane wind band? Watching from a distance as it moves across the land, you might think it’s a wall of pure wind that’s carrying so much debris that all you can see is a great grey wall changing form constantly. There’s so much more going on inside that system than you can possibly imagine, and it’s not just wind. The wind comes from pressure changes. The color comes in part from rain that’s got caught up in it. The sun drives the whole thing forward. Now, within any wind band, there is an eye wall – and within that eye wall, you can find respite from the barrage until the storm has run its course and dissipated. And then the sun can start shining again.
I think life is a lot like that sometimes.