Month: April 2016

This is the end of the road. The last milepost passed, the terminus of the journey. Last stop, everybody off.

This is the end. I’m done. I can’t handle it anymore. I’m finished. I cant…no, I won’t go on.

There is no physical change. Everything remains as it was. The sky is, the trees are, and time continues to be.

There is great internal shift, tectonics drastically changing the landscape of the mind. Pain, sorrow, discontent forcibly pushed beyond the horizon, to make way for new opportunity. The very foundation of being shifted, altered, changed.

This is the end.

This is the beginning.

It starts now.

…they came tumbling down.

Despite our efforts to protect, to gain comfort, and to rebuild, they came tumbling down.

Weeks of effort, built brick by brick, stone by stone, and filled mortar. The bulwark was build through tears, sweat, hard-work, and agony, all in the name of the greater good – comfort, security, peace. A chance to move on. A chance to grow. A chance to be happy.

All undone with a whisper. Undone with a song. Undone with a mere question. Hope springs in response to the sound, but that hope is misguided. That hope is the prelude to the sound of the warhorn. That hope only brings defeat.

And the walls came tumbling down.

And with it came silence. As quickly as the whisper came, as swiftly as the melody rang, as fast as the question mark was dotted, it was gone. Nothing to answer the hope. No hand extended. No embrace. No word of greeting.

Only silence.

So we sit, surrounded by dust. By brick, by rock, by crumbled mortar. By silence. Defeated, broken, alone.

Then we pick up that first brick, and place it atop another. And another. And another. We begin to rebuild.

So the cycle continues. Perhaps next time will be different. Perhaps the whisper will grow louder. Perhaps the song will grow, perhaps the question will be answered.

Perhaps the walls will only come tumbling down again.

It feels like the distant past, though only a little over a year. The echoes of a Little Bird, propped on my shoulder, singing and chirping happily, asking a question they already knew the answer to.

“Do you loooove me?” chirped a little bird.

The answer was always an unquestioned, enthusiastic yes, and one which I would sing from the mountaintops, into the valleys for all to hear.

“Reeaaallly?”

The echo of the question reverberates throughout my heart, my soul, my being. Though not necessarily attached to the Little Bird, and though the tone has changed (though it remains outstretched), the question remains the same.

“Do you love me?”

The source of the question is easy. No longer a Little Bird, whom has since departed, but myself. Inner being, self, the hopeful, but still unsure voice-within-a-person.

The answer, however, is difficult to give. Often, conscious thought tries to side-step the conversation: deflecting, dodging, and distracting with words, thoughts, and actions, in an attempt to avoid answering.

It’s an important question, and one that deserves an answer if progress is going to be made.

The echoes return periodically.

“Do you love me?”

I think I’m finally ready to to give an answer. So, Self, here it is.

The answer is not an enthusiastic, unquestioning “Yes!” It is not a resounding “No!” filled with bile, anger, and hate.

The answer is a quiet, meek “I’m not sure.”

“But I want to.”

Searches yield all kinds of results for someone dealing with depression and sadness.

• “Keep your chin up.”
• “Meditate. Nourish your soul.”
• “Work out – Nourish your body.”
• “Find a hobby and stick with it.”
• “Hang out with people and be social.”
• “Get outside and do things.”
• “Focus on you. The rest will come.”

The list goes on.

Here I said, looking back at the things I’ve tried to rectify the situation. A half-finished pair of coloring books. A daily regimen of working out and meditating. A musical instrument (well, when the shop finally gets it back to me). Time spent outside, exploring, hiking, enjoying nature, and doing what I can to make myself happy. It feels like none of it has worked. None of it has helped.

The missing element is the social aspect, and the source of when I’m down. No matter what I do, no matter how I look at it, I am alone. Alone on my hikes. Alone on my rides. Alone in my apartment. Alone walking through town. Alone.

It’s not for a lack of trying. I’ve made plans with people to hang out. Inevitably, they fall through. I’ve been abandoned by friends and (now former) partners left and right, seemingly cast aside without a second thought. Excuses are made. Promises for the future are made. The word ‘busy’ is repeated like a mantra.

Here I sit. Alone. The last time I spent with someone other than at work for more than 15 minutes? Early February, I think.

When is it alright to accept defeat? When is it alright to accept that my social circle not only has collapsed, but is non-existent? When is it alright to say “That’s fine. It doesn’t matter anymore.” When is it alright to say “I give up?”

Because I’m dangerously close, except I don’t know how to. The idea of giving up seems like a fantasy, the release I need to help myself, the greener patch across the fence, though I know it isn’t, and is probably much worse.

I put an inspirational quote on my whiteboard today, directly above my computer to help keep me motivated, to help keep my spirits up. In the back of my mind, I think it’s a farce, just another attempt to distract.

Do I sit and write all of this to make others feel bad? Is this an attempt for me to wave my arms and scream for attention to those whom I felt have “wronged” (for lack of a better term) me?

No.

This is my outlet. This is my way of saying “God damn it, I’m trying to not give up.What I’ve tried hasn’t worked. God damn it, I need help. ”

Except the answer seems to always be the same.

Silence.