I didn’t realize how bad I had gotten, how much the depression had truly taken over my life.  No matter how bad things get, the human mind can get used to anything and deem it as “normal” without a hint of irrationality.  Repetition, that is all that it takes to slip further and further away.  

Something happened yesterday though, that broke through everything and sent those misguided walls crashing down.

I laughed.

I laughed without thinking about it. I laughed without worrying that I was doing it too loud, or that I wasn’t putting the right hint of sincerity behind it.  I laughed because in that moment I was happy, and that most rational of human responses felt alien.

I laughed, and the laughter was heart warming but also heart breaking at the same time.

It felt nostalgic.  

Being happy and having a proper human response brought on memories when I used to do it every day, and the memories where so far removed they were.......nostalgic.

I guess you never really know how sick you have become until you start to get better.
I think I’ll try it again today.

Down in the willows,
among the thickets and thorns.
I try to move silent,
but my spirit’s forlorn.

Each move I make,
draws blood from my skin,
or my feet grow entangled,
as the sadness sets in.

The whispering branches,
lightly brush my face,
narrowing my vision,
as I pray for some space.

I try to remember,
how I became lost,
but the memories disappear,
with each breath of frost.

The willows are singing,
beckoning me.
They tell me to come home,
and they will set me free.

So I keep moving,
without looking around.
I stare at my feet,
as the float across the ground.

Then I realize,
that the thorns are all gone.
The ground’s become clear,
with each note of their song.

I look all around me,
at the meadow of tall grass,
and realize I’ve come home,
and I’m free at last.

No more pain inside,
no more worries or fear.
No more disappointment,
from the ones I hold dear.

I run my hands through the grass,
finally finding some peace,
and lay down among friends,
whose heartbeats have ceased.

The colors are vibrant,
but the shapes are all wrong.
Reality’s bending,
and time has grown long.

One second is twenty,
or perhaps it’s reversed.
Is this real or fake?
I can’t tell which is worse.

Maybe this is Hell,
without the pretense.
Maybe Hell’s just repeating,
what doesn’t make sense.

That would explain,
why each day is the same.
Why nothing has changed,
except more growing shame.

Hello officer, yes,
I want to report a crime.
Someone’s driving my body,
and I don’t have much time.

Then the phone is a book,
and reality shifts.
I suddenly can’t remember,
but my uneasiness lifts.

Oh well, it’s a dream,
just a farce I guess.
But each time I wake up,
I seem to come back less.

I forget to remember,
not to forget.
Wait, what was I saying?
I can’t remember just yet.

Dream and reality,
are now one in the same.
I guess when you can’t tell the difference,
you’ve truly gone insane.

Come take my hand,
and we’ll fly away.
To better times,
of yesterday.

We’ll search for places,
that are thin between.
We’ll find the tears,
and slip in unseen.

In between to nothing,
that exists there.
Where we can be alone,
without these cares.

Or we can travel through,
to the next world beyond.
Find the next in between,
and truly be gone.

We can find a place,
where we don’t exist.
Or we can choose to fall,
into the abyss.

Just be brave now,
and take my hand,
and let’s fly away,
to Neverland.

This anxiety,
is making me anxious.
Feeding itself,
until it becomes dangerous.

It’s PTSD,
of some varying degree.
Each startup and failure,
taking its toll on me.

The inability to remember,
the pain and the fear.
Forgetting the scars,
that should be so clear.

The voice in your head,
reassuring you.
Saying this time will be different,
when you know it’s not true.

Louder and louder,
till it starts to scream.
Your anxiety grows,
and splits at the seam.

Then you give in,
letting go at last.
The voice takes control,
and repeats the past.

Another, another!!
It screams in a growl.
More, more!!
A predator on the prowl.

Then it is gone,
and you’re just floating there.
Trying to make sense of things,
trying to be aware.

Then it all crashes down,
and you’re drowning in hate.
You’re full of self loathing,
and memories that exacerbate.

Now the long road ahead,
seems to have no end.
Your chest hurts so bad,
and the tremors set in.

You can’t eat or sleep,
so you traumatize your brain.
You’re scared you might die,
but you’re more scared of the pain.

Four days and you’re better,
but the memories end.
Then that tiny voice,
starts to whisper again.

Over and over,
rinse and repeat.
Slowly killing yourself,
for a small fix of heat.

Is this real,
or is this fake?
Is this a dream,
where I cannot wake?

Am I doomed to eternity,
of repeating sin?
A purgatory of do-overs,
again and again.

Purge it once,
rinse and repeat.
Tie up the strings,
and make it neat.

Reality,
is not what it seems,
but which side’s the waking,
and which side’s the dream.

I guess it don’t matter,
if you can’t tell.
Cause neither side’s good,
they’re double sided hell.

I’ll keep moving,
and try not to see,
the fluctuations,
surrounding me.

So if this is real,
then I’m sorry Dear,
but I doubt it is,
cause nothing is clear.

Either way I’m doomed,
to an eternity,
of repeating days,
and insanity.

As I sit here by myself,
I try to write these words.
I try to force them into sense,
and make them not sound absurd.

I used to transfer pain,
through the tip of this pen.
Pouring out the poison,
so that I could think again.

I used to bask in the hollow,
that the transfer left behind.
Breathing in the silence,
of a defragmented mind.

Then one day I wrote something,
and set back to enjoy the peace,
but the transfer didn’t happen,
and the noise seemed to increase.

It was like instead of hitting transfer,
my mind hit copy instead.
It was there on the page,
but it was still in my head.

I began to panic,
with every poem I wrote.
The poison wouldn’t leave,
and it was coating my throat.

I began to notice teardrops,
and that my words were blurred.
I never even knew I was crying,
but my brain was slurred.

Whatever this is,
it’s taken hold of me.
It won’t allow me the pleasure,
of setting my thoughts free.

So I’m slowly filling up,
and tipping more each day.
One day I’ll crash over,
and this debt will be paid.

I think that’s the reason,
that I can’t force it out.
I have sins to atone for,
ones I can’t forget about.