Night thoughts

The worst is when it all changes, slowly, and quietly. That conversation, that midnight chat, the seconds that felt like forever, all begins to become a distant memory. Change, it’s bound to happen, we know this; yet we can never be prepared for its storm. 

Sitting here pondering on the days that have passed, I’m left reconciling a lost friendship, a feeling of alone, and this gripping sense of mortality slipping with every second. Depression, it bites at those late hours, when the world lays there heads on fluffy pillows and cotton sheets; it rears its illogical patterns upon the wanderers, the weary, the recovering, the lovers, the sinning, and the many silent ones we still haven’t heard. Some time between the happy thoughts of listening to someone at the bar and my most recent phone notification, my brain ticked. 

Like a light switch being flicked on or off, these sad irregular thoughts washed over my face and consumed my present. The usual reaction, find some good music, write, or talk to someone and try to make them laugh. It’s a defense mechanism, when I’m feeling down, I tend to want to make others happy. Escaping my own problems, but seeing those results, felt like I had beat the depression with good ole psychology… but I was only burying it, adding to the piles of stress that was now a foundation of no balance. Time would be the only measuring stick, until it all came crashing down.

Writing wasn’t working. My go to music and pen relationship was bleak tonight. Setting my wheels to another direction, I checked out messenger to see if anyone was on. She was…. but I hadn’t heard from her in a week. Giving space was my reason to myself, but, the truth was, I didn’t know what to say. Everything felt so awkward any more, and messaging felt hollow compared to the conversations we had over a cigarette. My depression sent tears to my eyes, as I realized how alone I was again. That thought seems to resonate like a hot iron when the moon sets in the sky. 

Taking a deep breath, I sat back down at the edge of my bed. Setting my phone down, closing my eyes, I told myself; “this will pass.”

Maybe it will, briefly, maybe it won’t. Some days are better than others, and today’s not one of those days any more. Hears to healing, hoping these waves of depression take their much needed exit and stay lost somewhere in a void. Until then, I’m going to spend some time writing out these entries and posting them. Usually these are discarded in my trash after a sloppy re-read and it’s gone forever. However, with my life the way it is right now, I feel like complete transparency is healthy for me to take the steps I need to, to move forward. 

Night. 

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