The Weight of the Void

I hit rock bottom today. I cranked up the volume and almost broke the keys on my keyboard. I was afraid the neighbors were going to complain about the noise. I left the window open and filled the air with over-driven music that still failed to drown out my thoughts. The louder I played the clearer I heard myself spew venom at the walls of my innermost self and it only felt worse. I could feel the blood rushing up to my head and I caught a headache that remained for hours after. I hit the desk harder than I ever did before and I punched the wall. I felt furiously sad and ended up weeping on my knees, face-down on the floor of my sun-bathed room.

It’s spring and I can hear the birds chirping their hearts out as the first signs of summer breeze play a game of peek-a-boo with our eager hearts. How can I turn my back to such beauty and prefer to cry my soul out instead?

Depression.

Do you know how it feels? It feels like you exist outside the realm of time and space. Like you’re there but you’re missing out. Like you’re empty inside yet you can take nothing in. Like gravity is pulling you down harder than it would pull anyone else. Like you’re the center of the world and everything is revolving around you except their backs are turned away and you’re completely and utterly in an existential loneliness deeper than anything you’ve ever felt before.

I look in the mirror and the stranger looking back at me is beautiful. They’re calm and composed and even though their eyes give away that they’ve been crying they look far from the verge of collapsing into a voluntary state of deep comatose.

You’re truly a skilled pretender. I can’t even tell you’re not okay and I’m literally you. The spell backfired and you’ve fallen under your own curse. I’ve fallen victim to my own defense mechanism.

It would do me more harm than good to let someone know I’m struggling. The only people I would tell are the ones who care about me the most and whom I care about the most, which is why I could never cause any of them such distress. What good would it do to pull another soul down into this dark abyss with me? Or to even send out signs and vibes of my misery? They say misery loves company, and it does indeed. Except I love those people more than my misery could ever override. I’m proud and I’m selfless; selfless yet painfully self-centered and absorbed in my own lair of power and self-control.

I’m not completely locked away though, I always leave an end out for those willing to throw a punch to my rigid preserved ways. This blog post right here is a good example.

I want this to end. I’m exhausted and beaten up. I can see it going away for now, but like a boomerang; the faster it goes the sooner it’ll be back, the further it goes, the harder it hits when it inevitably swings around and heads back your way.

So, until then, I’ll do what I’ve always done: stand tall and keep holding on.

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