Stagnant.

I realise that I haven't written a proper post in a while, although that isn't for lack of trying. Every evening this month I have sat at my laptop and found myself at a loss about what to write. As with many, if not every long-term illness, depression has a tendency to fluctuate in its intensity, whether it be hourly, daily, weekly or even monthly. And I have found myself in a dip; a dip which has caused me to experience a mental block, perhaps even "writer's block". The painful thing is, the writing is something that keeps me alive; it is an outlet for indescribably strong emotions and without it I am struggling more and more. So instead, I have done some vlogging on youtube- although my speech is less succinct that my writing, it is an outlet which, at the moment, is completely necessary. So linked to this post is my 'introduction tag' video, and from there my other videos should be accessible. As ever, I'm sorry if you're struggling- it's really horrible and if there is anything I can do to help, do just send me a message. 

 

More.

You say I have to get better. You say there isn’t another option.

I don’t. There is.

You sit there in your polite bewilderment

with a pitiful smile lurking behind your shining eyes

and tell me what I must do.

You, with your rational responses coming from

a mind unknown to me.

I do not know you.

Therefore you cannot possibly know me,

for you can never know what it is to be known by me.

I sit there exposed,

Revealing the truths that lurk inside of my dark, lonely skull.

I conceal every cut, I suppress every scream. I hide it.

And you tell me that I must do more.

More than forcing a smile onto my tired face?

More than injuring body so that I do not completely destroy it?

More than looking suicidal thoughts in the eye

perpetually throughout the day and fighting the urge to give in?

More than willing this heavy leaden heart to beat on?

More than living when I have no cause?

You tell me I must do more.

What if I just don’t have it in me?