me and february 27 – major depression number one

describe depression:

it can’t just be sadness without confusion and anger without extreme guilt and shit without shit like a big stew pot full of so many different feelings and sometimes just wishing you were dead or numb or incapable of feelings any more feelings and would gladly eat twenty birthday heroin cakes to erase or at least numb this –

tell me what it looks like to you:

imagine the inside of my head as empty apartment hallway silent and vulnerable – and this is the eerie and calm shot that the viewer always sees in the movies right before the smoke begins to seep out from underneath a door. you see this danger onscreen and feel the need to scream at it to try and alert somebody before it is too late which is way above ridiculous because this is a fucking movie and this scene is playing out exactly like it was written – and so it must – and there’s not a thing that anybody that might be watching can do about it but hold their breath and wait and watch –

there is a tiny flame that crawls across the wall from around the corner and grows and grows fatter and more hideously beautiful in such a way that can’t really be understood sometimes. these walls in my head are already older and full of cracks and stories from years and years of wear and wires and the paint is peeling off and chocolate fingerprints and spit and snot and shit and what look like dried gravy stains and these walls are going to collapse eventually – so why not now?

the fire in here doesn’t even resemble a fire anymore to be honest. i’m not entirely sure what it looks like but certain that it resembles everything that you would never want to see – the colors should be dark but they could also be a pretty sky blue or a generic happy face yellow. it’s all up to you or me. my colors change when they want to and that doesn’t really matter because i always know what it is and it can try and disguise itself all it wants to but i would know it anywhere. it has a smell about it that could be a combination of open-sore infection/rotten meat/cat vomit.

it is covering the walls – i know they are standing for the time being but i am painfully aware that at any moment they will begin to crumble and the sound will be awful and when they do i will know i have completely lost my mind and there is no way back and i must make the decision – to wait until the flames burn out and hope they haven’t completely ruined these walls, and once they are extinguished i can begin the excruciating task of trying to put them back together – or look at the rubble, accept that it has been through enough, that it held up for as long as it could and there is just no good way to put it all back in place and expect it to look familiar to anyone and also myself.

let it die with some dignity. hold it and whisper to it that it did the very best it could and you cannot begin to understand how incredibly difficult it must have been for those walls to stand for all those years – and weaker walls might have crumbled much earlier. tell it you are proud of  the fight it put up. then sweep up the bigger pieces and the crumbs and anything else that might remain and dispose of it all in a completely decent and respectable manner.

however, if those walls don’t fall –


they don’t fall –

then you just watch them burn for hours days weeks and years all the while holding your tongue between your top and bottom teeth and feeling that sick sad feeling in the pit of your stomach because you know it really is just a matter of time –

sing some songs or play games to alleviate the boredom.

~ by alltheavenueslookugly on 2013/02/28.

2 Responses to “me and february 27 – major depression number one”

  1. “sing some songs or play games to alleviate the boredom.” <<< Haha…golden. 🙂 Unless, of course, a person has become completely desensitized, unamused, and so very tired of being on meds, misdiagnosed, prejudged, labeled, poked, and pried at, year…after agonizing year…he or she will never understand the "head chatter" and living hell a person can go through. I feel ya, brutha, I remember back in the day when I was not only catatonic, but mute, on lockdown (in a "special room" and on a "special watch"…if you get my drift) and I honestly didn't know if I was even human. (This is why I know that I am indeed a walking miracle, and God Himself took time out of creating trees and seas to save my very life, and restore me to "perfect sanity and normalcy".)

    At least you have your talents and you're a fantastic writer! I know- little consolation, but heck- you can express yourself, and am sure you know the value in that. Shoot, blogging is sometimes more therapeutic than an actual "session" ever could be. I know it's so hectic, Sean, going through the sea of utter BS and doctors and LIFE in general sometimes- but remember this always- you're voicing what many people wish they could say, and you're a mouthpiece for a LOT of people. Know your value- even in that. You should totally write a book, don't you think? Kind of like "Girl, Interrupted"- but your version. Think about it. 😉 (It would give you mini-goals to accomplish too- the chapters, etc.)

    Love ya, bro. Hang in there- always. xo

  2. blogging has helped me tremendously. i had years of untold secrets and hurts that needed to come out –
    i’ve said it before, but it really means a lot to me to know that people are relating to what i write. it’s sad, because i know how bad it feels, but grateful that they might realize that they are not alone.
    the book is being written as we speak. 🙂
    thank you again. so very much.

    take care.

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