A reflection of hope and wishful thinking
A single word could always have different meaning for each person. A lazy sunday for one could also means a neighbor day. An apple could means either food or poison. And, your perfect day might be my worst day, ever.
That’s the thing about relativeness, there are zillion meaning you can get from one act. There was a day when I was singing on my own and some friend would say the perfect day I had. When in fact, my life had been crumble down. And perhaps, still one.
Looking down, I’ve got some battle scars in my whole body. Each time it stings, every now and then. As if the wounds are bleeding still and I keep trying to cover it up. That kind of pain throbbed in the back of my mind. Yet, I still breath here and now.
Depression, an act of fakery
The thing about depression is the more I get there, the much more fakery I put out. On a single day I could smile and hug everyone, put a good show and the next thing begging, crying till I fall asleep. What are we, if not an actor on one man show. One minute, I’m laughing it off myself on that manic episode. Next minute I was putting myself in that same thing.
It’s probably much easier if we just normalize to talk about these things. Although, for some people (like me) it’s much better to talk it out between each character inside my mind. Or maybe to put it simply in words here which I hope this doesn’t seem like a cowardice step to take.
Dying is not (even) the worst part
I’m not afraid of dying and all the thing, only surviving is the hardest part. In the state of numbness, the only thing I hope is a situation or something to change the tide. To feel a single thing. Is it a fear, sadness, or even so anger. It doesn’t matter.
It’s only natural to think about death, since it’s the closest feeling of numbness. It seems so distant when I talked to people about it. Some of them gonna be terrified, the others gonna feel okay but hope the conversation ends. But, despite the feeling of being outsider, oddness, we still need to survive in this messy place. And that’s the real tragedy.
Managing, controlling, maintaining
The stability in my mind is one thing I was trying to aim, each day. Sometimes, I envy for those who plan their life in the next 5 or 10 year. While here I am, just making sure that I survive a day. A baby step, I guess. That surviving thing somehow manage to hit me in the most hurting part of myself. Maybe because, the enemy is me all along.
Each day is a battle, I am barely walking toward whatever may come. Ideally speaking, I should be able to control these things since it’s been going on for years. Yet, I am still learning something new, each day. We still do. The hard part is not managing what’s inside my head…but make sure that this stability will last for longer than before. Maintaining the thing while battling my own demon.
And today I was thinking about all the lost time i’ve had, the nightmare, and a simple wish and act to make it go away. All those pain turn into a glimpse of what could’ve been. All that moment I faked a smile and laugh, as if they know that it’s a cry for a help.
A snowball of regret suffocated me. Since I can’t even apologize for those damage because I was and am always be unreachable. The only thing I could do is clinging on these weakly branch of hope. Or is it just a wishful thinking that it’s gonna be over and I could be liberated and free.
