A Picture Is Worth a Thousand Words

(I do not own the rights to this picture nor am I profiting any way from its use)

“I am terrified by this dark thing
That sleeps in me;
All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity.”
― Sylvia Plath, Ariel

The Abyss

It is cold here.

Though they try, no one is prepared to rescue you from the recesses of your own mind. Trapped in an abyss of blackness, the sadness encroaches on your brain like a heavy fog. Your body is present, but your soul detached, confused, alone.

Boxed into a corner in your own head, you judge yourself condemning your innermost thoughts. When the sadness takes you under, there is no release. You just have to ride the undertow and hope it lets you surface for air before you drown.

A lifetime of building others up, so they never are burdened with the same weight you carry. Fiercely you defend those you love, suffering the consequences of your own actions, because the repercussions matter not when in support of someone you care for.  This is accompanied by the harsh realization that your actions, your devotion, it is rarely reciprocated, and seldom appreciated.

Anxiety, depression, sadness, despair, these words rule your life. Your chest is tight and empty at the same time. Breathing seems to cause you harm, and yet cleanses you. Tears and sobs are your only release. Only, you hold them in, because your pain is fickle, and not worthy of liberation.

Alone.

You just live.

Distancing yourself, though you want nothing more than to be loved, held, and cared for. Motions are robotic. Tasks are just a means to an end. An empty shell of a person, attempting to mask the fact that they are crushed to dust on the inside.

Always agree, always support, always love. Everything in the extreme.

The highs and the lows ebb and flow. No rhyme or reason to their appearance, you are a victim to the tide of your own heart. Happiness overwhelms you, overflowing from your eyes in a torrent of joyous tears. In turn, the levee breaks, dragging you under into a flood of melancholy. 

The looks. The voices. You fear the judgement the most. Can they see how broken you are. Are the thoughts of inadequacy apparent on your face? Is there a place for you in this world? Will anyone ever fill the void in your heart? You are petrified to find out. Hold the world at arm’s length. If they can’t touch you they can’t hurt you. Self-preservation, self-denial, they are like evil twins in your mind, your own personal comedy and tragedy.

They say misery loves company, yet among your friends you still feel alone. You never want to leave your sanctuary, because presenting a pretense is daunting, exhausting, and real. Life is much easier lived behind the pages of a book, hidden under the blanket of music, locked behind the window of a computer.

Sure to mock yourself first, beat them to the punch so they can’t crush you with their words. You tell yourself their opinions don’t matter, but you feel the knife of their judgement sink deep into your soul. Your indifference is a fabricated shield, the only defense for a defenseless heart.

Curling into yourself, you want it all to fall away. Your only wish is to lie down and let it take you with it. No more pain, no more doubt. Finally peace. However, peace is not in the cards. No amount of damage can be burned away by a wish. Hopes and dreams are unattainable; they don’t come true for you.

You long for the happiness you see all around you. Joy, accomplishment, and fulfillment, are things that always seem just out of reach. Yearning, begging, bartering, for just one sliver of the contentment those you know have in their lives.

Loathing yourself is a real thing. You hate the jealousy and green slime of envy that oozes in your veins. You know it is irrational and unwarranted, but yet you would give anything to walk in their shoes for just a day. Wishing you could have freedom from your demons. Wishing the devil whispering in your ear would let you believe you were good enough to know them, be them, because you don’t feel your existence is worthy at all.

 Putting on a brave face, you take on the world. Every day is a battle when you are lost to yourself. Never let them see your pain, hide it from the world, for that is your only saving grace. If those around you know not of your pain than they do not pity you, do not treat you with kid gloves. A semblance of normalcy is a mask you wear, for sympathy sometimes stings worse than indifference.

Just smile through the pain. Just laugh through the tears. Just hold it together, when all you want to do is fall apart.

They don’t know you are weak because you don’t show them. They can’t feel you are broken, because you won’t let them.  When the day is over, you get to have your release, but until then you fight. The demons inside, you fight. The flood that threatens to take you, you fight. The hole that opens before you, you fight.

Sometimes the fight is all you have left in you.

At the end of it all, another day of sheer survival. The exhaustion takes you. Sleep is often your only escape. A reward for another hurtle cleared. Your brain is finally quiet, peace is finally found. If only for a short while.

This is your subconscious.

This is your torment.

This is your destruction.

This is your abyss.

*****

“there is a place in the heart that
will never be filled

a space

and even during the
best moments
and
the greatest times
times

we will know it

we will know it
more than
ever

there is a place in the heart that
will never be filled
and

we will wait
and
wait

in that space.”
― Charles Bukowski