Monday, April 18, 2011

there are voices in my head that won't be still.

Sometimes I get exhausted just thinking about my life.  How much of it is left?  I wish I knew.  Sometimes (not every day) I think of my life like a bad movie.  If I were in the theatre I might walk out.  "How much is left of this movie?  60 years?  Fuck this, they're playing the Wizard of Oz next door".
I wonder if I have the strength and stamina to stick it out.
I don't have a choice.

But you know what?  We will try new medications.  They will work for a while, and we will remember that we love to take walks in the sunshine.  We will remember that melted marshmallows came straight from heaven, and that cellos make our souls cry.  We will remember that sobriety makes us feel alive and that peanut butter cups are right around the corner, at Glow Variety.
And when we start to forget all that shit again, we will look at our lives as if they are framed in gold.  Everything framed in gold must be a fucking great work of art.  And that's what I am, I guess.

Depression is the inability to carve out a future.  How fucking true is that..........

join us