How I hate days like this. For the last two weeks, I felt like it's getting better. It's not great, actually I'm only incrediblly indifferent - but at least not miserable. And good things happen. Awesome faeries emerge from the oracle deck and I find myself actually enjoying life again gather my hopes that everything will be fine.

And then comes a day like today when I can't help but thinking that depression does make you go a little mad. The insane mad, that is. Like you're not yourself anymore. Suddenly you're all miserable again, miserable enough to leave your cousins's birthday party after only two hours because you can't stand it anymore and all you can think is: "You're not being yourself. You ARE not such a miserable, sad and scared person, that's impossible. You don't runaway anymore." But it IS you who can't even get back into the house to say goodbye. Because you felt bad all day and it has cost you a lot of your strength to even go there in the first place and you don't have any strength left to pretend that you're well when you only feel like crying.

At least it's not as bad as it used to be. At least razorblades don't look attractive anymore. That's a damn notable progress. And I find myself blaming women's natural cycle, because there are these days in the month when everything seems three times as bad. But it's not the same.

There are so many things that I am absolutlely grateful for. My wonderful friends - god, these evenings that I spent with them last week were simple awesome! My creativity which is the very thing that keeps me going. My newly discovered spiritual guide, the dear raven. An eye to see the beauty in the world. And these days, I feel and see these beautiful things stronger than ever. Stronger than I could last year.

And right now I want to scream and smash something because the awkwardly acquired feeling of normality - the feeling of "this is how life is supposed to be on normal days - not on extremely good or extremely bad days" - can be shattered so easily within a minute.

It's damn frustrating. You gather your strength to finally live your life, because you feel it coming - and then you have to shoot it all at once so you can get through the bloody day. One step forwards, two steps back.

I know that it will be okay one day. I feel the progress even now, because even though it's still bad, it's not HALF as bad as last year. No cutting, no wondering of "why am I still fighting?" I know the things that are worth fighting for. It just COSTS so much. On many levels.

I follow the night
Can't stand the light
When will I begin
to live again?

One day I'll fly away
Leave all this to yesterday
Why live life from dream to dream
and dread the day
When dreaming ends?

One day I'll fly away
Fly, fly away.

(and then the dreams will not end and then days won't be dreaded anymore).

14.1.12 22:15
Letzte Einträge: I know where you sleep., Connection in an isolating age


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chrissi (15.1.12 12:49)
ah, well, you know. I was just thinking something similar, because contrary to what I wrote yesterday, my aggressions did come back. creepy as always. (there is a reason why gawtcha is my reoccuring fairy.) go, talk to the raven. I hope you're better now.

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