and when the sun rises

Published on March 13, 2012 in random. 0 Comments

most mornings my stomach is in knots before i realize i’m awake.

my brain quickly loads all the things i was upset about the day before, prior to the melatonin kicking in and my mind being cleared for sleep. i can feel it rushing back.

all the fear. all the anger. all the loneliness and heartache and melancholy. i never get a chance for a fresh start with the dawn.

my brain shouts: “remember this? remember how upset you were about this yesterday? let’s revisit that, shall we?” & my mind is too weak and tired to protest. it sags under the weight.

i differentiate between my brain & my mind. i have little control over the nature of my brain, how my brain is wired–for depression and anxiety and doom and gloom. my mind is me, my mind is what tries to fight against nature. my mind is the nurture, & it is very malnourished.

most of the time i feel like i’m pushing a boulder up a very steep hill. when i stop to rest, i’m almost crushed. when i have times during the day that are not filled with distraction, my brain fills the void with reminders of what’s wrong. it is exhausting. i could have slept for 10 hours the night before, but i still feel as if i only slept 2. or less.

yet i can’t nap during the day, because that is quiet time, and it requires my brain to attempt to shut off without the benefit of the melatonin. i half-sleep; the static of anxiety is still in the background & i’m partially conscious of it although for all intents and purposes, i’m not actually conscious at all.

i yearn for restorative sleep, for a morning when i wake up ready to seize the day & make it bend to my will. a morning when i feel confident i can create my own reality and it will be okay.

one morning, i want to not immediately regret that i woke up.

as the sun sets

Published on March 12, 2012 in random. 0 Comments

when the sun starts to go down the demons are stirred up inside me.

maybe it’s that i’m realizing i spent another day alone, in this big house, empty but for the ghosts of dreams that died here.

maybe it’s because i feel like all hope is lost for this day being something positive, that with the setting of the sun it’s confirmed that this is one more day that amounted to nothing.

maybe i didn’t spend the day alone, but spent it having fun, with others, enjoying life until i realized that it will all end when i return home or they leave, when i’m alone again and my thoughts overcome me.

as the sun sets, i feel the anxiety washing over my body, the sadness, the tears burning hot welling up in my eyes, hesitant to leave knowing they will disturb my painted face. a face painted on to mask the ugly feelings beneath the surface, encased in my skull, rattling around in my brain.

the sun sets & when it finally disappears beneath the horizon i become ignorant to the pain i felt that day, numb, counting the hours until i can swallow pills and escape my life to 7 hours of nothingness. i don’t dream anymore, not when i’m awake & not when i’m asleep.

when the sun starts to go down the day is held accountable.

i know the next day like i know this day. i could write a prophecy of how tomorrow will play out, make a bet on it. if i could wager on these prophecies i would be a wealthy woman.

because each day, internally, is like the last. i don’t know what i’m waiting for, or why i’m waiting. i don’t know why i just continue on this path that doesn’t deviate, even though i want so desperately to not know what the next day will be like, to have legitimate hope that things will be different. not even better, i couldn’t imagine that. just different. something.

for most people, sunsets are beautiful. for me, they are dangerous.