Was hit, today, by a wave of depression...
It's been dark, cold, & gloomy for days now - but this morning, it all hit me at once; a tidal wave, dragging me into deeper waters. I'm aching... Internally and Externally. Instead of feeling joy, I am apathetic. Instead of feeling like a feather, I am feeling weight. Instead of feeling pleasure, I am feeling... Not.
I've been sleeping most of the day; locked in a dark house with no lights. Literally & figuratively, I suppose. I've finally dragged myself from bed, thinking on the events & affairs of the past few days. Sometimes, I understand I am unpredictable; lashing out at those who don't deserve it - becoming victims of this spirit inside me that aches... burns... And when I am disappointed or frightened, it's not that I lash out to send people away... but I understand that is what I do. Self-Sabotage, perhaps? Or something worse?
Sometimes, I feel like I'm drowning.
The loneliness, the aggravation of living, the questions of "When" and "Where" and "Why" and "How" become so much that, for a brief while, I am subjugated by them; an unwilling slavery, which shackles my mouth, my mind, my body. Frozen, unable to move - unable to drag myself from the depths. I suppose that's why I came to Chaos...
Such an apt, name, isn't it? Reminescient of life's Chaos; the unpredictability of our birth & death, our joy & sorrow. Life is as much a battle beyond these screens as it is within them. That makes this place an escape... but also a reminder:
That no matter how much you might fight the Chaos, it is always still just beyond. Waiting... Watching, like some spirit of Evil, to reach out with gnarled fingers and grip one's throat. There are times when I feel "Done" - all the wondering, all the feeling, becomes null - a void, swallowing all it can catch at its' event horizon. It is ravenous, this Chaos... This Darkness... And its' thirst cannot be quenched.
Much like this place is ravenous for stories. It has a belly full of them, yet more float in every day, feeding this monster - gripping ships, planets, people, and rending them limb from limb; turning them to shades of their true selves - cloaking them in mystery, as wraiths upon the grounds of Hill House.
"...And whatever walked there, walked alone."
It's been dark, cold, & gloomy for days now - but this morning, it all hit me at once; a tidal wave, dragging me into deeper waters. I'm aching... Internally and Externally. Instead of feeling joy, I am apathetic. Instead of feeling like a feather, I am feeling weight. Instead of feeling pleasure, I am feeling... Not.
I've been sleeping most of the day; locked in a dark house with no lights. Literally & figuratively, I suppose. I've finally dragged myself from bed, thinking on the events & affairs of the past few days. Sometimes, I understand I am unpredictable; lashing out at those who don't deserve it - becoming victims of this spirit inside me that aches... burns... And when I am disappointed or frightened, it's not that I lash out to send people away... but I understand that is what I do. Self-Sabotage, perhaps? Or something worse?
Sometimes, I feel like I'm drowning.
The loneliness, the aggravation of living, the questions of "When" and "Where" and "Why" and "How" become so much that, for a brief while, I am subjugated by them; an unwilling slavery, which shackles my mouth, my mind, my body. Frozen, unable to move - unable to drag myself from the depths. I suppose that's why I came to Chaos...
Such an apt, name, isn't it? Reminescient of life's Chaos; the unpredictability of our birth & death, our joy & sorrow. Life is as much a battle beyond these screens as it is within them. That makes this place an escape... but also a reminder:
That no matter how much you might fight the Chaos, it is always still just beyond. Waiting... Watching, like some spirit of Evil, to reach out with gnarled fingers and grip one's throat. There are times when I feel "Done" - all the wondering, all the feeling, becomes null - a void, swallowing all it can catch at its' event horizon. It is ravenous, this Chaos... This Darkness... And its' thirst cannot be quenched.
Much like this place is ravenous for stories. It has a belly full of them, yet more float in every day, feeding this monster - gripping ships, planets, people, and rending them limb from limb; turning them to shades of their true selves - cloaking them in mystery, as wraiths upon the grounds of Hill House.
"...And whatever walked there, walked alone."
