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Depression the Dhemon

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I had two full months of riding high and feeling great; then suddenly it was over.

By now I felt like I should be used to it - this sudden reversal of mood, the swing and the pull, going this way and that.

But the dark place that I suddenly fall into is never familiar in the welcoming sort of way that graces the everyday goings-on of my "up" periods.

The good times can have me feeling like a bird, I soar so high; but during the bad times, I am forcibly pulled down to earth and just keep sinking from there.

I hate being compelled to feel and act in a certain way. I hate that I have no control.

Maybe that's why I sometimes lash out at people when feeling low - it's my anger, frustration and depression all rolled into one and projected outward; but I hate that too.

That doesn't feel like me, any more than the depression or the extreme highs feel like me. I feel completely deprived of a normal baseline, something that I can say is definitively me at my usual.

There is one thing I do to try to counteract the lows, and that is to physically take myself higher by climbing up to my tower room.

It's there that you can find me for the entire duration of my depressions, which can last for months.

Keeping myself in this tower serves many purposes;

It keeps me isolated from others so I can lessen the amount of lashing out that I do;

It lets me serve my "down" time away from where others can see me, and it gives me a silent place that is completely undisturbed; which gives me even more of a reason to write.

You can usually find me there with a pen in hand, jotting down words that become poems that become songs. At those times I'm not concerned about how good they might be; I just write to try to make sense of things.

But later, when I'm well again, I'll look back on those pieces and realize that, painful as they are for me to read, they're my best work.

However, I'm not thinking about any of this right now. Right now, I write.

Sifting through the contents of my mind
feeling less than content, and I find that if I concentrate
on its constraints,
I'm not able to contemplate
any kind of escape;
I fall -

Further and further down
into this great depression,
deprivation, suffocation,
complication, locked down in my isolation
sure that this time
I'm far too deep to arise.

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HTML & CSS Coding | boogleloo :: Story and Poem | Hope :: Header | Albertine Slotboom :: Background | ColourLovers

HTML & CSS Coding | boogleloo :: Story and Poem | Hope :: Header | Albertine Slotboom :: Background | ColourLovers