by Edeyn Hannah Blackeney
There are times when the human experience is a cold, dark thing. Those are the times when all of the warmth and happiness that one knows to be possible, just doesn't seem to matter nearly as much anymore. For at least awhile. It is also during these times that one reflects back upon similar times, some not quite as cold or dark, and some even more so. The edges of vision fade to darkness as a body loses interest in even perceiving anything beyond what is the focus in front of the eyes. Then it narrows even further. Sort of a tunnel vision formed by sheer apathy.
The temperature of the room or day or night... doesn't matter, either. Things just ... well, are. These are the times that people who actually care begin to worry or even try to intervene. At least for awhile. If there are too many times in which one enters the cold and dark places, even those that are dearest and hold that precious life dear themselves... simply... cannot take much more and the caring starts to erode.
Why is it that those times in which the darkness and cold choose to enter and invade seem to always be when we are warm and bright? Is it so that the different is stark and it is recognized? A survival mechanism of sorts? Is it so that there is warmth and light to absorb part of the descent? Or is it just... because that's the only time you notice the cold and the dark? Are they really always with us? Just kind of hiding until you can notice them?
I don't know. For awhile, at least. I was beginning to be happy. I was allowing myself to believe that things would work out, that I have (had?) a chance at a life worth waiting for fruition.
It's still there, just out of reach. But, I'm not nearly as dark and cold as I've ever been. I have at least a beacon in my darkness, a candle-flicker of warmth in the cold. I have someone I know cares more deeply and more profoundly than is able to be expressed in all the human languages there ever have been, are, or will be simply because it can never be as ... well, as I've just said, it defies description.
So there is no need to worry, and I will return to the warmth and light, but... it's painful. I sit and choke on my own tears. Awhile... at least for...
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Comments
The Fuel that Keeps Us Going
Hiya Edeyn. I'm watching. And I care.
Hugs
- Terry
Welllll...
All ya hafta do is get a little above suicidal, ya know, so ya'll survive, for awhile. Maybe take antidepressants. Then ya move away; don't talk to anybody cept the pshrinks you're dependent on. So maybe family...you can talk OK for a few hours; make em thing you're alright. Then they'll leave ya alone for a year or so.
So ya won't find anybody for yer life cuz ya never go out. And ya don't care much about anything. Buyin food is the biggis hassle, cuz the antide's makeya wanna eat so much. Then ya can just sit around and read BCTS and FM all day, eat and take yer meds and do it agen and agen and it drives ya crazy but ya don't give a shit cuz your SO F*CKING DEPRESSED!!!!!
and ya can jus sit back and slowly die cuz were all dyin AIN'T WE?
grumble grumlblesgrummbaa grum grum gra um eh eh ahhhh
Hey, this is a little like a John Lennon song, except it's dun so badly....
Hugs and Bright Blessings,
Renee
I have been in the cold and dark...at least awhile...before now.
I have tried to get back to warmth and light, at least awhile ago, but it seems that my Fate that is constantly with me, awhile, wants me to suffer, at least awhile, for whatever reason. How long is "at least awhile"? Nobody can say for sure. I have been trying to get back to the warmth and light, at least awhile, but the sun never shines in the dark, and the dark is permanent, at least awhile.
I am on this earth at least awhile longer, but my health is fading. So, how long is "at least awhile"? Only God knows.
"With confidence and forbearance, we will have the strength to move forward."
Love & hugs,
Barbara
"If I have to be this girl in me, Then I have the right to be."
Dear Edeyn,
When I wrote my comment above, I wasn't goofing on you or mocking your story or anything. Today, I'm feeling ashamed that I wrote it, just because it's so angry and crude. And your story isn't. I just took the feels your story brought up inside me. Feeling a little sorry for myself, I somewhat amplified and distorted my feelings of depression and futility. Getting into it, feeling a bit f*cked up, I wrote it so it would sound stupid and/or careless.....
Just thought I'd tell you.
Hugs and Bright Blessings,
Renee