Depression

It comes, like an old friend, patiently waiting for another chance. Chances to ride the wave of unease and unconditional concern, of questions best left unanswered, unasked.

I wait for things to pass, but they don’t. I wait for things to get better, but they don’t. I waive the rights of second glance, second chances, second hopes.

My old friend lies. My old friend steals the moments of a day and gives me seconds of solitude lost in thought and nothingness. My old friend is no friend.

Waiting to take myself back, I rest, I watch, I hope.

Tired

Why am I so tired? Everyday I work and watch and parent and clean and cook and entertain and…I am so tired.

My muscles ache and my back pain rises. I wonder why I am so tired.

Each day I strive to meet the needs of those who depend on me. I wonder if I am doing enough. Am I doing enough? Should I do more? Can I do more?

I am so tired.

Confounding

Confused gyrations expect control over me I seek the power to stop, but I cannot.

Controlling dominance coursing through, leaving a burnt husk, ravaged landscapes of the soul.

Congested surveillance of selfishness. Anxious abuse leading me astray.

Worried conversations with people who don’t want, who don’t have anything to lose, to win?

Risking the power of a dream. Seeking the season for hope. Finding solitude.

Update

Last Thursday, I got very ill. I was finally getting better on Monday. Then Tuesday, fires erupting around me. I was evacuated from my home and was only able to come home yesterday.

I was lucky that my house was safe. Many others were not.

I’ll post some writing later today, but I just wanted to explain my absence.

Damaged

Broken strands attract carrion eaters these predators of personal anguish seeking shadenfreude or abuse, easy pickings.

Every day you fight against the people, trusted scavengers of hope, a need that this one is different until hope is gone and you, a shattered carapace of humanity, stop seeking change and accept the acceptance of the downtrodden soul.

Some find the answer. The answer in others, in themselves. Sometimes the answer is gone; maybe never there.

But for those who continue against the odds of tomorrow against the random number generator of lives against the fortunes of outrage existence of the unknown, the acceptance of the Damaged.