Thursday, February 3, 2011
I know I suffer from slight depression. Left untreated it can become far worse, but with treatment comes the fog. All those cures in the form of prescription drugs meant to change ones mood so they don't feel anything, not one thing; nothing spiritually or emotionally, just the flatline known as "coping." My depression, left hidden, hurts no one. I can still feel joy in others triumphs and sorrow in defeat. This darkness isn't as bad as it appears on the outside. It is real. It doesn't hinder my expression; I've become quite delft at keeping it closeted. It will not kill me or anyone else. I can take it to my end game and none will be the wiser. Perhaps that is my skill - the artful acting that only I have mastered. It is my secret, left untreated. If others knew, if I shared this morsel with the one I care about most, it will only lead to treatments that hinder feelings. Feeling is living - limbo not the cure or anecdote. It is my personal possession that I share with no one except in my dream state where I cry endlessly and often, cold sweats, night tremors, living in the dark covering of night.