I’m Great and You Can Fuck Off

I haven’t written in a while because nothing has really been going on but I am writing today because I am so pissed off that some people think that being depressed is a choice. If you do, you can fuck off.

I get really upset and distant when people say that what I am going through is a choice; I personally want to crawl out of my skin because that is how much pain I am in. I hope you never have to experience this type of pain. So before you judge someone with mental illness, maybe you should stop and put yourself in there shoes and think before you talk and hurt their feelings.

From now on, don’t ask me if I am ok because from now on, I am great! It’s a choice right? Just don’t ask me. You can call me stubborn or willful or whatever but from now on I will be the only one that knows how I feel and from now on, you don’t have to worry about me because I am fine.

Peace out,

G.R.E.A.T

The Rabbit Hole

My breath is shallow and my mind is lost. I try to focus but at what cost? I can’t hear and I can’t see, I just see a black tunnel and at the end is a silhouette of me. I stand there still, unable to move. It’s like I’m watching a movie and my life becomes the story. 

I can’t tell you my secrets because you will judge me and I know the reason is because I already judge myself. 

In this hole, in this tunnel there is nothing but darkness. They say there is a light attached at the end of the tunnel but that’s a lie. The truth is at the end you just die. But when will death come? When will death come for some? When will death come for me because I don’t want to sit here waiting on this bended knee. 

I sit here and wait in this tunnel so dark, it’s as dark as the corners of my mind- a place I don’t invite you because I am too kind. 

You will never know what it’s like to be in here. My brain shouts to be free. I bang on the walls of my brain but the neurons fire so fast I know that I can’t last this way. The neurons fire and the desire is great, I need to get out before I collapse to my feet. 

I lay here wondering who will be toeing this line…following me down this rabbit hole- don’t worry I’m fine? 

I don’t want you there, I want to be alone. I don’t invite you because you aren’t as strong. I think you would be scared, I think you would run and I would still be here, my silhouette outlined in the darkness. 

Run I say. Run like you do because I won’t chase you. I can’t make you stay, I can let you run. Run as fast , you can and don’t look back. You can’t save me; let my world turn black. 
Until next time,

Just let me write

I Can See Them Circling

Some days I am a fawn jumping in the lush meadow. I don’t have a care in the world except for the wet, morning dew on the small pads on the bottom of my feet. 

I feel like that sometimes; I am just prancing around, loving life and loving most of the people that I surround myself with. I can feel the sun on my face, the warmth and the heat. I can see how bright the sun makes the meadow around me; it is bright and full of life- the tall grass sways gently in the morning breeze. I feel at home here and I feel alive and happy but deep inside of myself, I also feel vulnerable.

Other days, on the hardest days, I can feel that hunter stalking me in the woods. It’s not a regular hunter; it’s emptiness, embarrassment and shame. The hunter is the feeling that I am not good enough and not feeling like I am worthy of other people’s love and affection; and worse yet, their time.

I can feel myself cautiously moving through the trees. The temperature drops a good ten degrees as I carefully move through the wooded forest. Somehow, I feel safer in the cover of the trees, less vulnerable I guess, than in the open meadow. The trees provide a sanctuary for me and I can feel their protection but of course, I am alone. In the meadow, I may be happier but I am scared and I am cautious because out in the open field, other deer can see me and I feel like my every move is being judged.

In the thick forest, I hear a crack of the wood, I hear the bend of the bow and just as fast as my heartbeats, I take a gasping breath; the first arrow strikes me. The arrow is embarrassment and shame for what type of fawn I have become. A young deer that is young only emotionally. A young deer that only has a perspective from a fawn’s eyes.

Just as fast as the first bow comes, I can hear the breaking of the wooden bow and the swoosh of the second arrow. It feels slow at first and it’s like I am just waiting to die and then it hits. It doesn’t hurt as bad as one would think because I am so used to these arrows all the time. This arrow is judgement. I condemn myself to death because of what type of dependent fawn I have become to those around me.

I am lifeless on the ground. And as I lay there, I can hear the swoosh of bird wings. The vultures are beginning to circle and soon I will be no more.

Those moments in the meadow are few and fleeting. They are few and fleeting right now but I am hoping over time, I will find myself in the meadow more often, prancing along in the morning dew and hearing the whistling of the wind through the trees and the birds chirping their morning song.

I need to steer clear of the hunter and I need to accept myself; flaws and goodness and all the problems that I face daily. I have to stop being who I am in this stage of my life and become an adult.

My death, my suffering is only caused by the hunter. I am the hunter.

Until next time,

It is time to put my bow and arrow in the shop and live life in the open meadow.