I have been quite restless recently. I can’t seem to sit still without having my anxiety and agitation sky rocketing beyond. I sit, I stand, I move around and my next solution is always to have a smoke. Not my best moments for sure but I feel cornered to a wall without a much way out. I have thought that maybe the agitation is as a result of smoking while on the antidepressants I am on but there has been no solid evidence on goggle that that might be the case. I restarted smoking right after I went on medication because previously I couldn’t handle how much the nerves at night were heavy on my shoulders. Now truly, I wish I could get back those nerves over the agitated feeling that befalls me every evening as I so not look forward to night.
I recently made a decision to quit smoking three nights ago and I can sadly and ashamedly say that I have failed on each night. I even downloaded an app to help track how many days I could keep clean off smoking but it hasn’t been put to good use yet. I realise how reliant I am on smoking because I can’t seem to quit as easily as I thought it would take me to. Now here I am looking for nickles in all sorts of crevices just so I can have a cigarette before and after dinner. I truly need to find something to distract from smoking because I genuinely blame my idleness on how much I smoke in a day.
My mother always told me that boredom is a choice. It quite vexed me as a little child to hear that after I just yelled out how bored I was feeling. To say the least, I am still vexed. Today, I am still rocking in the same boat, more now than I have felt in a very long time. I wake up at noon, have a cigarette, have brunch and then sit to wonder what else is next. To give a bit of a background to my slow routine, I am freshly out of college, freshly being used lightly in this case. I finished school a year ago so now when I say it out loud, the term freshly is quite expired.
Earlier this week I had my first internship interview for the course I studied in school and to say the least, I just went through the motions. I was not prepared for the effort it took to get out of bed, shower and leave the house all before eleven in the morning. While I was taking a shower, it took absolute willpower to not back out from going to that interview. It was a lot of willpower that is for sure.
The interview went well. I am still waiting on their response but I am hopefull. Hence the waiting game.
This is for those unwanting of the new year. It is for those whose uncertainties in life didn’t magically disappear just because the new year is here. It is also for those whose sadness didn’t escape them when the clock hit midnight. These little words are for you.
I haven’t felt much of anything in a brief moment. When in regard to feelings, I wanna believe that my thought trajectory is always leaning on happier feelings, feelings of light and joy. Sometimes maybe even a little bit of peace. It is the new year and I can’t seem to feel the light and love going on around the world. Do I necessarily think it’s my fault that I feel forlorn at the start of a year that is magically supposed to bring cheer, no, not really? I understand hope and faith in wanting this time around to be different but what for us who can’t seem to grasp those little motions of hoping for another year of change. I read somewhere that sometimes all in one year, one is capable of living three years in one. Can’t blame me for feeling scared that this new year might in turn bring me three years instead of one.
This is for the unprepared. These words are for the sceptic people not sure of themselves enough to find joy in the new year. This is for those still carrying remnants of the day ago year that still lingers. For those who feel their losses so immensely, the beginning of a new year would be like erasing the memory of the loved one no longer there. This is for those who would rather not sit through doing a recap of their past year for it would mean scaling back old wounds. All of this is for us who will take it a day at a time as always.
‘’How do I begin to set out to the world this painful reality that even I aren’t sure I have fully acknowledged? Most nights, I am uncertain of whether I have the reality of a tomorrow. I can’t seem to decide if seeing the night through is my main goal or whether I am just being dramatic over my emotions. There is this unbearable need inside my head that tells me that nothing is right, that nothing I feel or do can or will make anything right.
For the past two weeks or so I have been fighting the reality of the fact that I have been feeling suicidal. It has no longer just been fleeting thoughts anymore but solid assurances that I no longer can decide on whether life is bearable enough to be lived. I have thought through it so many times, I have questioned myself on whether it is real in both my heart and my head. It physically aches inside me whenever I think that I could finally be ready to let everything go. It is a very unbearable burden to carry because I have found no means or way to tell this to anyone. I am convinced that either no one will believe me or they probably won’t know what to do.
How do I begin to explain this to anyone when I myself haven’t entirely come to terms with this frightening realization? How do I put this into words to anyone else when all I truly feel is shame over even feeling like this? I say this with absolute resolute, the only thing that I am certain about in the midst of all the turmoil going on inside my head is that I have absolutely no idea what to do or where to start dealing with these feelings or these thoughts of suicide. It scares me not knowing how or where to start. So yeah, that is right where I am.’’
The above text was written by a very desperate, sad, despaired and most especially depressed girl. I can’t say with certainty that any of those damning feelings are gone yet, or better yet, I do know where they are. They are retreating to the back parts of my mind now that it feels a lot like I have a bit of amour against them. When I read those words above, I remotely can’t entirely recognize the girl who wrote them. She looks and feels a lot like a hollow shell and it is terrifying to think that at any one point I was this girl, I am this girl. The emotions feel like a vague memory, it has the vagueness of a sketchy dream that only holds bits and pieces of what is to be recalled of it. I wish all the memories of that pain could be erased but some of it is marred on my arms as-a-result of trying to drain it out. The pain is stuck deep inside, deeper inside than the mere blood in my veins. The scars in my hand are just a reminder of a very short-lived relief that didn’t ever quite feel like relief at all.
There is a very stark difference between being alone and being lonely. My depression is always certain to make sure I feel the best of both worlds, at least in regard to those two aspects of isolation. The most singular of the two feelings is when your entire being is encased in a fog of loneliness. No sense of reassurance would convince you otherwise of the fact that you are absolutely alone and beyond lonely. This time around, it dawned on me that I wasn’t intentionally choosing to be lonely apart from the intentional choice I made to be alone. It took all the energy I had in me to have any conversation I might have kept up with during this time. I can say with certainty that I have not spoken to the few people in my life to whom on occasion have seemed to retain some parts of me as their friend. The looming darkness is all that encases you, it is all I could think about. I was entirely convinced that nobody in my world would find a solution enough to save me from the dark pit I was in. I felt nothing beyond the scariest darkness known to my mind.
I feel like it’s important I make this fact clearer, depression is not just a bit of sadness. It is a lot more than even I can express. It is for sure something I still don’t think I have the full grasp over in regard to how vast of a feeling, an emotion, a concept, a thought, a sensation, an enlightening and a whole lot more. Depression is also quite invisible. It never is something graspable to the naked eye. For me, it is very suffocating. My mind never feels like it has any space to breathe, it feels like the only space I can afford to think is in remote gasps of air. It feels like it would resemble a lot of what I think it feels like to drown. The panic, anguish, despair and the complete lack of hope for rescue sounds a lot like how my mind is right now. Sally Brampton, the author of the memoir Shoot the damn Dog wrote in a very precise manner what it is like to experience the depravities of the mental fuck that is depression. She describes its most corrosive aspect as despair and catastrophic. She continues to elaborate on how impenetrable and unendurable it is.
I have experienced suicidal ideation before but never to its full potential as it was this time around. I knew I was deep in the gutter, submerged under when I couldn’t quit thinking of just how peaceful and pain numbing dying would feel like. When the thought became a permanent fixture in my mind, I knew there was no way around this. I didn’t want to be alive anymore. That awareness became the dawn of a new twisted kind of sorrow. I recall on some nights crying so deeply and feeling the pain and anguish so physically from knowing that I was lost in myself. I was lost in my hopelessness and my mind had resided itself to no longer living but to completely quit existing. To a degree, I thought if I hurt myself enough, it would ease that ache even just a little bit, enough to satiate it. Dull it down. It didn’t quite do it. It led me to commit my first suicide attempt. I remember the night vaguely but I recall the intent behind the pain I felt that night. I recall the finality to my thoughts when I placed the razor to my vein. I remember the soaked tears in my sheets from my wet face. It was a pain I can only describe as purely indescribable. 23rd of October,2021 I decided I didn’t want to live anymore, at least not in the state of mind that I was in.
I can’t say with absolute resolute that I don’t want to not live anymore. Am alive now, still in despair but alive. I’m on antidepressants currently so it is all I can hope that along the way, I find it easier to want to stay alive. A lot is still yet to be done and I can’t say for certain when any of it will be done. I still have struggles that play a major role in making it harder for me to fully get the help I need so it is all I can do but trying live a minute at a time. It has taken me nearly a month to write this and I’m okay with that. Writing and reading for me take quite the hit in periods of my depression so to an extent, I am proud I got to be candid about what it has and is still like for me to live with this unbearable monster that lives inside of my head.
I know, not the most captivating title but I’m not sorry I didn’t come up with something better. That’s the best I could do anyway… So, again with the title, a little depressing but I’ve been meaning to elaborate to the world on my hopelessness and how wildly it sometimes makes me feel. For a precise elaboration, the term depressive is meant to bring insight to the fact that I don’t think that the drastic measures my mind seeks to end feelings in the likes of hopelessness is something that occurs in just any person’s mind. It takes a specific kind of sick to view shit the way I do, to want to solve issues the way I think makes sense which finally brings me to the highlight that the way I view or turn to resolving issues I go through isn’t similar for every person who struggles with mental issues. I was very precise in using the term ‘this’ to highlight that whatever I’m about to write is how I view things and how I feel towards them.
Besides it being a first for me to explain my title in detail, I just want to put it out there that I don’t intend to be metaphoric in my words today. I’m too hopeless as it is to wow anyone with my ‘great’ expressions of pain. I’m too drained out; that’s what feeling hopeless is about right? Feeling like there’s not a chance for anything good happening or punning out for you.. Yeah, sure sounds a lot like where I’m stuck at right now.
Where to start, not sure? A lot like everyone else, I had this grand plan for the beginning of the year but twenty days in, I’m willing ready to wrap this shit up. My needs are overwhelmingly piled up and I have no absolute means to meet each of them. To be frank, they aren’t some over the top things that I want but they are basic things that I need. I finish school in a three weeks time. I’ll be done with my diploma and where I’m from, the stereotype is that the end of one chapter or phase of life, is the absolute immediate beginning of another. No questions asked, no gap periods taken, its pretty much hopping from one wagon to the next at every stop. I’ve had it asked to me countlessly what I intended to do right after I’m done but I’ve pretty much got nothing besides heading home and working on my writing. I’m not upset about not having some grand plan to fall back on once school is done cause I genuinely need to ease off the pressure that’s been weighing in on me for a while now. What has me feeling a tad bit upset is those around me who feel like they are entitled to questioning me about what my plans are after school and why there are no immediate plans underway to get me a job. Like I’m not frustrated enough.
Feeling hopeless isn’t something I’m unfamiliar with. What can I say, I’ve got a history of things never punning out for me, not much of a surprise there… My hope is attached to the part of me that’s a christian, the part of me that believes in God therefore I rely on Him for my hopes and aspirations. I’m not knee deep into religion, I’m not even sure I’m religious but I am spiritual. Even for the most basic of things that I’d require luck, I still sorta run it through God in a verbal and brief way.. ‘Hey, I know I’ve not spoken to you in a while but could you please let me not fail in today’s paper, I’d be really grateful ‘…This will be my words pretty soon when I sit for my finals. I can’t say my mini prayers always go through as I want but I do know they are heard but being the human that I am, I am constantly asking for more and crossing my fingers that miraculously it will pun out as I want it to…
I can’t even recall how long ago it was when I started this precise update and for sure is that I’ve lost my train of thought though not entirely, can’t say I’m any more hopeful than I was while writing this. To bring y’all to where I’m at now, I’m done with school…(cue the applause). Truthfully speaking, I wish that applause was more real than the one that goes on in my head everytime I think of the fact that I’m done with school… but away from that, it doesn’t really matter anymore that nobody recognized that me finishing school was more grand than anything for me, at least in my eyes it was…
Back to hopelessness, it’s still very much there…probably now more than ever. I’ve felt hopeless in ripples and it’s taken its toll and now it’s more of just a constant feeling that I’ve honestly become accustomed to. At first, I was sure it was gonna take me down the depression express but as I began to feel the wake of the dark season set in, I was like, am I honestly ready to deal with all the bullshit this early into the year, absolutely not. Therefore, I put on my big girl panties and decided I’d just let it roll off my back, cut out the things making me feel hopeless or better yet, assume their existence in my mind. I don’t dispute that I need to figure shit out but I won’t do it on the expense of my mind deteriorating. Truthfully speaking, I’m not ready to start fighting with myself and with whether it’s worth living through. So the hopelessness is still there, just tucked away for a later time…
I’ll try keep this as short as I can cause honestly, I don’t know where I’m going with this…I just know that I’m in the middle of chaos that I need to find a way or a means out of. When I feel like I’ve probably felt enough in conjunction to how low my mental struggles can take me, I’m reminded that I’m falling into a bottomless pit. Honestly, I’m at a war and I can’t ascertain to whether I’m winning or losing. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, it always feels like I’m drowning but the difference this time round is that something keeps pushing me further down into the water ; I’m suffocating on the chaos that’s raging in me. I’m battling as it is to simply put to words how much turmoil I’m feeling but I feel like the harder I try to emerge out of it, the harder it is getting for me to breathe…like I’m having a panic attack but nobody else can see it cause it’s behind my eyes. Even as I write this, my breathing is laboured & I honestly just wish I could scream out the turmoil. The scariest thing out of all of this, I don’t know why I’m drowning…Tonight I’d have stopped the chaos, even if it’s just for a little while. I wanted to, I had every intention to. Sadly, in the only way I know how. Depression for me is taking an entirely new height..one I’m not sure I’ve been to before. One that’s paralyzing and crippling; I don’t know how to calm the hell that is coursing through me. I feel psychotic cause the world around seems entirely oblivious to the war that’s waging in my mind. I’m a breathing shell of the person I’m meant to be. I wanted to hurt myself, it was the plan a few minutes ago but somewhere along the line, I’m convinced it truly won’t make a difference. I no longer seek pity or remorse over the fact that I cope the way I do. Self harm keeps me more alive than I can attest to. It may be just another slash to my wrist or another scar to the collection but it’s sadly how chaos has me surviving. I don’t want to die but my spirit might not be strong enough to pull through this battle. It’s petrifying to think that there just might not be a way out of this. If I could choose death tonight, it would be outta of the utter helplessness that is coursing through me at this very moment. The feeling of having no hope whatsoever is like a blanket wrapped tightly around me to the point of slowly suffocating every bit of air inside me. I want to pick myself up from this shackles tied around my mind, I just truly don’t know if I’m strong enough to break free. Where would I even start? My spirit feels a lot like its been trampled over, fully decimated. I’ve got no hope & will left in me. The light in me is slowly dwindling. Your probably wondering why can’t I ask for help. It’s hard to see hope from others when it’s pretty non existent in yourself. Not to sound ungrateful but I don’t believe there’s much anyone could do for me anymore. At least not until I find strong enough will to help me back up & help myself fight for my better state of mind.
Suicide.. Does that draw your attention? I sure hope it has cause it sure has drawn mine.. Maybe not in the same exact sense for you as it has for me but our attention is drawn… Thinking about it brings along a very chilling feeling that’s eerie. Not the most talked about subject and its understandable why. It’s not gonna randomly pop up in a conversation. The world has chosen to turn a blind eye over this subject cause a lot of it is denial over the fact that it happens everyday & everywhere. In all honesty, nobody ever sees it coming, maybe apart from those who lives have felt that it was their only way out… that it was their end of the tunnel. We are all quick to believe that the light at the end of the said tunnel always has to be hope ;for some, it’s the light that shines in death.
I’m not here to justify suicide or why it happens. I don’t believe there’s a universal reason of sort that explains why people do it. Truthfully, I’m not sure what I wanna say concerning it…. I’d be lying if I said it’s not been a notion that’s crossed my mind of late. It’s hard to admit that… It’s sure as hell tough as nails to put it out there that such a heartbreaking thought has skimmed through my mind. This being said, I don’t believe I’m suicidal. I’ve fought so hard to never get there & I wanna keep finding reasons to never getting there… But despite the internal war waging inside my mind, it’s hard to not wonder whether maybe that’s the only way out. I can’t say I know what goes through the minds of any of the people who have lost their lives through suicide..the most I could guess is that they probably felt hopeless. The kind that doesn’t give you a way out… the kind that most likely ran them out of options to get rid of the heaviness that burdened them. I say this cause I’ve felt that. That hopeless ache that sometimes never seems to leave & drains you of the little energy you have to fight for life & to fight to keep your will to survive. I’ve felt it and it’s scary.
Just to make things clear, this isn’t my suicide note. At least I don’t think it is. I still wanna live, even despite the exhaustion I’m feeling from merely having to breathe. I’ve always thought of myself as too cowardly to do something as drastic & final as suicide. Ever since I was a child, I just knew I couldn’t bring myself to take my own life. The thought wasn’t farfetched for me, I just knew I didn’t have the balls in me to do it. I believe I still don’t have enough balls for it but now, now I don’t think it’s such a bleak thought. Earlier today, while taking breakfast, my family and I were listening to the radio & a story came up of a seven year old boy who committed suicide. It said that he had just come out from playing with his friends & seemed completely fine to his parents, and in a matter of minutes, they walked back in the house to find his lifeless body hanging of a rope on the ceiling. It was disheartening to listen to that, having to hear that that early in the morning when one is about to start their day. It was extremely sad & painful to think about it but out of all of that, what mainly stayed with me is how young he was. In the world that we live in, a seven year old is extremely young therefore it raises the question of what kind of chaos was that little boy going through to have concluded that his life wasn’t worth living for anymore…
I no longer find surprise when it comes to the subject of suicide. I believe we have been tuned as humans to never reveal our weaknesses to the world for they may see us as weak which in actual fact we are. I wish the world could share kindness to everyone & not just when one is in the blink of taking their own life but even when one is in the peak of their life. I hope that my demons remain cowardly enough to not bring me to the blink of me taking my own life. Even despite the painful, hollowing sorrow I’m going through, I hope to live through my dreams & aspirations till when it is my time to leave this earth. Suicide is not a matter of courage or balls, it’s a matter of hopelessness & despair… It’s everyone’s wish to never get to that point in their lives but never think ill of those who have. The toughest kind of pain is the kind that is masked behind a happy face or a prosperous life. People think that those who contemplate suicide are selfish for not taking into consideration the feelings of those they live behind. Take a minute to think of how much sorrow it brings for one to choose their own pain over the one that their loved ones are left to feel. It isn’t easy. I sure don’t think it is. I don’t advocate for suicide, not at all. I wish we could all see the beauty in life but we all know that’s not possible. If you ever feel like life isn’t worth living anymore, reach out to just one person who would rather listen to your pain than have to sit by your grave.
I don’t struggle everyday or every waking moment of my life. I’m not always writhing in mental agony ; I’m not always sad & depressed. This facts should be a good thing, it should be something I’m proud of…so then why am I not? Why does it scare me instead that I have moments where I’m who I should be, a normal girl? It’s profound in my mind that I should be alarmed over the fact that I’m not constantly broken. Do I know why? I wish I could say I don’t have an idea but I do. I wish it wasn’t because of the fact that my fucked up mind can’t seem to even be good enough to be constant at being ill. I’m the definition of a fuck up…at least my mind is.
I just read through a post on instagram of a girl I recall following cause she and I had something in common. Cut marks. Just saying it gives me shivers . I hate seeing them and I get angry when I do. On anyone. They are not pretty & they are shameful…but despite all that, I can’t seem to not seek solace through it. To be honest, I no longer know why I do it. Some part me is sure I’m narcissistic towards myself. I’d rather be in the shadows of my pain than allow myself to think I can get better ; that I can do better… The girl in the post looks like she’s doing better, a whole lot better than I am. I hate that she can expose her marks which are a whole lot more than my tinnie tiny scars …i can’t even seem to make a substantial insition on myself. I can’t say exactly why it upsets me but it does. Maybe I’m just not ready to go into the dark part of my mind that has an answer to that.
Right in this very moment, I feel tormented. I feel wrecked… In this moment, I could care less if the dishes were pilled up in the sink. The ‘ocd’ I feel is what keeps me a float. I relish on the little control it gives me . Whether it’s in making sure there aren’t dishes in the sink or that the house is spotless or that everything is in its rightful place. I could care less right now about all that. All I feel is this hollow sinking feeling inside that’s itching in my mind.
I was fine approximately sixteen minutes ago. I was a float on my little boat of normalcy but I’m now not and it’s all cause I saw that post. The girl from the instagram post looks like she’s at a consensus with herself…or maybe not. Maybe her struggle allows her to have a smile on her face while showing her scars. It seems impossible ,at least from my eyes it does. Guess that’s what it feels like to feel the shift of a trigger .
PS. I don’t feel like I fully have expressed myself. I feel like I could erase this post and every little feel in me. This caption feels better of an explanation of what I am trying to relay to you. Whoever you are.
Been a while.. I wish I could say I have something valid or an intense rant to go on about but honestly, just too many feels are swirling in my mind right now. I feel like I’ve just been heavy the last month and it just is slowly draining me & leaving me without much to offer anyone or myself in the least. Ever just wanted that deep exhale ?… that’s pretty much what I need right now or currently… I’ve lost trust this last month, I’ve lost hope, I’ve lost focus, I’ve lost strength and will …i feel like I’m in that space of mind where I’ve given so much, I’m an empty vessel.My depression is lurking and its dark looming presence doesn’t feel so far away….but when is it ever. I call bullshit that I’m gonna try beat the damn thing cause maybe it just might be what I need right now for me to just shut down & reboot…. I hate having expectations cause I get disappointed every other time when I hope that they are gonna be fulfilled but are not. Having relationships in life can do that to a person. So yeah, I welcome the darkness cause I need the walls back. I need in my cage to silence the ever noisy world that is out to fix me to fit the picture perfect human. Maybe I just don’t wanna be fixed…at least not just yet. Greatest mystery should be whether there’s a sense of Stockholm syndrome for patients who cling to their depression.Everything this past month has felt like a trigger for me. I’ve nearly tipped over cause of the sadness & gloom that’s been in the air and maybe that’s what I need to stop feeling scared of, tipping over to my dark sea. At least if I drown, I get the still & calm I’ve been yearning for. It’s probably gonna be a bloody mess but sometimes it’s just the price I gotta pay for the silence.“I try and I try but I’m too sad to cry. I’m not suicidal, sometimes the lines just get all blurry. Yesterday I tried to pray, I just didn’t know what to say. I don’t like to talk, just rather stay in my bed . Lied to my doctor, she knows I was faking, gave me some pills but I’m too scared to take them, I try and I try but I’m too sad to cry. ” Sasha Sloan
So yesterday I did something very bold. I term it as bold because of how unconventional it was & risky since it would have turned out very invasive to some. I’m actively on Instagram & I was going through my followers instagram stories & I came across a picture of a girl’s arm that had marks on it. She actually wasn’t taking the picture of her arm, it just so happened her arm made a cameo and I just happened to see it. I wouldn’t say I was being observant, it was like a glance that led me to contemplating whether confirming my suspicions of what the marks were was a smart thing to do… Let’s just, my conscience didn’t fail me. That was last night and I was sure to include in my dm to her that she was at all under no obligation to answer back to me. I know I would be a bit skeptical opening up about anything remotely mental related to a stranger. Today morning when I woke up, it had completely eluded my mind that I’d sent her a message, that’s until I saw my message icon ping that I had an unread message. She was honest enough to acknowledge that what I’d seen was indeed self harm marks. Getting to the point of this story, (not really sure there’s one) , it was uncomfortable seeing them on someone else other than myself, but I twistedly felt connected to her by her self inflicted marks on her hand. I felt the bond of having another understand that one is capable of being a mess enough to hurt themselves. It was relieving but sad. I quit feeling sorry for myself after the first time I cut , I no longer chose to see it as a fault but as a survival coping mechanism. It’s just different because I relish in the feel of a cold blade to get some damn needed peace of mind.
Not too long ago I had a friend of mine frown upon the fact that I recently got a new tattoo. He’s exact question was ‘You enjoying hurting yourself with this tattoos?‘ He didn’t realize how close to home he hit by asking me that… In my own twisted way, I love the feeling of the needle skim through my skin, it’s just that this time, I’m left with a beautiful artistic reminder of things that mean more to me than others. They are the murals to those I love and to the times in my life I can never seem to erase from my mind. They are my stories, I just receive the both ends of the stick when I get them, the pain that comes with getting them, and the artistic beauty created.
It amazes me how I can never seem to let go of my mental struggles even when I’m not in the gutter . I can’t cut loose the strong hold at which I hold them close to me & how much relevance I constantly give them. I’ve written before that I felt special being ill, I felt like I belonged being depressed & fucked up generally. It gave me a sense of purpose. I was constantly sad & I got to write the best of my blogs while in that funk. Call it fear of the unknown, which in this case is anything that’s remotely good and happy… that damn H word I never seem to like very much. I just can’t grasp myself not unhappy & miserable. No need to pity me, I don’t pity me either. The most surprising thing is, despite not wanting good change, I feel inadequate for depression. I feel like I sometimes lack the magnitude needed to be special enough to be depressed. Like I can’t just catch a break with the inadequacies in my life ; I’m just not cut out for happiness or depression . Really beats the point of why I got my damn enough tattoo in the first place. I need to find a bearing of where I belong, in the darkness or the overly bright light .
Tonight I wasn’t really writing as a means to vent, I guess I just needed to release myself a little. I had a relatively good day, went out to a lovely ice cream parlor in town that touched my old soul. It’s entire vibe and setting was the eighties and it’s ice cream was as legit as legit can be. I honestly didn’t wanna leave because for those few minutes I was there ,the world around me seemed right and peaceful… content even. I wanted to stick there and live on ice cream for as long as my mind chooses it’s ready to go back to our sad reality… Sno – Cream parlor was my heaven in hell…