Nothing but a dream of getting out to the place where horizons are buildings, people, noise, hurry, excitement, HAPPINESS
Leave behind silence. Leave behind ceaseless wind. Leave behind a curve of unspoken secrets of those back there in the quiet terror
Keep close. And late at night, take out in a spasm of regret the splashes of ugly memories on those who would rather forget. In the silent aftermath of desperate longing for absolution, the spill of harsh kitchen light and tickticktick of the stupid clock that sees all and knows nothing.
It never goes away, those dark grindings of heat and cold that pass through landscapes alive with voices crying
A passing train offers golden squares of light where people are laughing and talking and pretending to be normal but nobody is really normal
Another generation of lust and dust yearns to find the horizon of freedom in the western sky
I put a new roll of toilet paper . . . On the holder. It felt like I’d completed a workout in the rain barefooted.
Depression is a catch-all term for a whole plethora of symptoms relating to the psychological and physical inability to function like normal people do in the real world. Allegedly. We depressives tend to not talk much about the various ways our depression will sabotage our efforts to function. I like to write. I like to create. Mostly, what I do is nothing. My bed calls me, dirty sheets and all. And every time I crawl under the covers, right before I sigh with exhaustion, I think, I should change the sheets and throw these in the washer and take out the trash and wash the dirty dishes and clean the kitty pan and . . .
Two hours later, the nap has succeeded in making me feel worse. I still can’t move, though. I should hang up those clothes. I should go visit my friend in the nursing home. I need to write. I have some orders I could be working on. Those dishes aren’t cleaning themselves. Those sheets are getting sadder by the minute.
Depression lowers the immune system. Being the misanthrope I am these days, about half the time I go out of the house, I get sick with something: bronchitis, stomach viruses, strained tendons, 6-5 and pick’em.
My truck had four active recalls on it when I took it in for work. 24 hours later, I felt like a new deckhand working a tuna boat on the Atlantic in January with a violent storm blowing in. My cat curled up on my head, all 17 pounds of him, purring like a kitty generator. I firmly believe that my fever would have lasted at least another day if not for his medical intervention. As soon as I started sweating, he moved down to my icy feet and draped himself over them until they warmed up. Three days later, I’m still not well physically. Kitty did check on me last night, delicately licked my eyelid, and settled down for a nap on my painful shoulder, purring contentedly.
The first glimmer of a break in the clouds just happened a few minutes ago. You see, I try to listen to comedy bits, and they say laughter is the best medicine. It’s actually more like a vitamin supplement: the placebo effect temporarily supplants the depression. This small window of not-feeling-hideous could be used to wash the sheets, I suppose. I’m going to try it, see if this actually makes it to the bedroom. If it does, Ch. 2 might be a progress report.
it makes for exciting scenarios, heroic actions, perfect endings with perfect partners
perfect skin, perfect teeth, perfect body
And just for that while, that vivid, fantastic dream period, the smile in the mirror contains all the wisdom that unlocks every mystery, answers every question that my fevered mind shouts into the void: Two nights in a row,
My lost love reappeared to let me know that all those feelings never left completely
that what we’ve built separately could have never been accomplished together, because
Together, we were complete. Together, we reached the pinnacle.
There would have been no need to strive for more, to engage every ounce of energy in creating a place of serenity, for we were already serene together
And for a few minutes, I embrace the wisdom of dreams, the divine message of meaning and hope
that I cannot fathom when I am awake
And it feels quiet and good and perfect for a few minutes.