Today, depression hit like a punch in my gut. Hard. Unexpected. Left out of breath and unable to move. The feeling of nothing slowly returns. I don’t eat for hours. I don’t get out of bed for hours. I lay there in the dark for hours wide awake. I don’t sleep. My soul is tired. The darkness I see exists within my soul and somehow I find that comforting.
I found purpose in the madness. Without the madness I possess I would not be here. I live because of it.
Let them judge you. It is easier to judge than ask. My dear, only small minds do so.
I get up
I go about my day
Still after all this time
Thoughts of you always get in the way
Anything anyone has ever told me could never be as hurtful as the things I’ve told myself.
Never did I think I’d fall for you
What a pleasant surprise
A spark I know still exists
How could I believe a Michigan man could feel again?
I hear the weather up there turned your heart quite cold
No matter how hard I tried to use a warm heart like mine
I found myself sick from the cold you brought
Even now after all the hurt
My heart still radiates warmth throughout me
If you ever find your way back to the southern states
I hope you know I still think of you the same
There is plenty of space in my heart
For someone like you
I know one day you will have a warm heart too
You left when I needed you the most
I don’t know if I could forgive you after all I’ve been through
Maybe one day these sleeping pills will allow me to dream forever instead of waking and living a nightmare.
I may not talk to you. I may brush it off when someone I know mentions your name. However, deep down I miss you like hell. It’s not when I’m just lonely. It’s not just late at night. It’s all day, every day. I care and always will. It was just wrong timing. It always is, isn’t it? I’ll meet you in another lifetime.
Purpose trumps happiness. Purpose gives meaning to life. Happiness is just an emotion that vanishes as fast as it appears. Find your calling so that you will live a life of meaning and one that is worth telling.
I agree with Hemingway that writing isn’t hard
You do just bleed out your feelings
Only problem is, the bleeding never ceases
Coping with your darkest secrets
We writers feel the most
Writing poetry just to pick up the pieces
Alone I am
Forever I shall be
An old soul like me
Will never be complete