|Darkness of my Mind
Author: Bage PM
Some musings I wrote down when I was feeling rediculously depressed. I'm not anymore, but I still felt it was good enough to share.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Angst/Hurt/Comfort - Words: 726 - Reviews: 1 - Published: 01-20-10 - Status: Complete - id: 2766468
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
I can't say I'm happy, nor can I say that I'm utterly depressed... though at the moment a familiar downward spiral pulls at me, beckoning me down into obvious oblivion. However, I doubt I will descend much farther into the pit. Really, it does no one any good, for how can I do anything for those around me as abysmal as I if I myself am likewise incapacitated by the seductive waves of despair? Not that I don't care for myself, as well... but I become increasingly convinced my own soul is forfeit to the darkness that pervades my mind. I long for release, but I know it will not come anytime soon. I am stranded here, in this limbo of happiness and sorrow... the world in which I operate. I recognize that my life is not all too strenuous, and I really have no plausible explanation for my sadness, but it's there, plain and leering. Perhaps I lament for the pain and problems of those around me, though I hardly think I am this selfless. Why can I not escape the turmoil that rages within me, the constant battle against myself? Why can't I just love and accept what and who I am? Some mysteries are meant for closer scrutiny, I suppose.
If you're still reading, I'm
surprised you haven't gone on to other things out of pure disgust. I
myself am ashamed for writing this, but my options are limited, and
I'm losing the ability to hide my musings from my immediate world. I
feel trapped with myself, the only one I can really talk to. I
realize how I must sound... so terribly melodramatic, pleading for
attention, hoping someone, anyone will care.... though with any luck
they won't. I won't lie. I do want someone to care, to tell me I'm
not as alone as I believe I am. And even though I know this will only
burden those that read it, I selfishly choose to publish it, and for
this I am sorry. I cannot justify hurting people to feel better about
myself, and I won't try to.
As these paragraphs progress I can't help but notice how much you must disdain me by now, as I myself am becoming sick from this overly played out sympathy rag. But as it's darkest before the dawn, if you are still there, bear with me as I tell the second side to this depressing tale. Don't think that I have given up just yet to pursue some semblance of happiness. My current state is simply that: current. It will pass, and I will forget it soon. Even now, the sunbeams that pierce the glass of my window warm me to pleasanter thoughts. After all, the world is not shrouded in the cold night forever. The light of day smiles down upon the earth in turn, leaving us everlastingly yearning for its embrace, its promise of happiness. So it is now. My current problems are not as horrible as I make them out to be. Life is not over for me, as much as I sometimes will it to be, and at the moment, I see no reason for it to end just yet. Many adventures still wait to be had; people I have yet to meet. Death will not claim me for many years to come, unless Nostradamus be proven right.
And so I leave you on a happier note than when you began. Perhaps it has eased the resentment that must have been building inside you when you began this literary journey. Perhaps you can forgive me for dragging you through my dark and filth-ridden mind, which I certainly hope is possible. Love and friendship, I find, is no commodity today. But I do not expect you to love me, as I believe I have reiterated throughout this work. I only wish for you to know me as I am in the present moment, to feel how I recurringly feel. I wished to share this mind before it could be wasted. But however doubtful it may seem, with luck my musings have helped you somehow, instead of the hurt I dread it has caused.
As humans, pain is our inheritance... but peace is our reward.