This piece is about the ups and downs of living with depression. Often times, it’s a rollercoaster of emotions and lack thereof.
I go through phases like the moon, but less beautiful and far less predictable.
Some days, I’m completely devoid of feeling. “Nothing” is a surprisingly filling sensation. My gut is swollen with the nothingness I feel toward those I hold dear to my heart.
My mind comes undone and the only connections I can make are of Disconnect.
Like looking up into the light polluted sky at night, straining my eyes, willing my sight to see the stars I know are there, but not being able to find them.
Other days, I’m overwhelmed with the sudden rush of emotion. A trail of feelings I’ve misplaced hours, days, weeks, even months ago, miraculously reappear.
I tend to find myself following the trail. Picking up the jagged puzzle pieces I vaguely recognize as “me” as I go along.
Trying to rebuild myself, I spread the pieces out on my mind’s table, face up. But somehow, they always end up in the wrong place.
The self-image I have plastered in my mind seems like an abstract painting. My emotions display themselves as an array of colors and shapes. They float through the vast majority of my consciousness on their own volition.
They pour out of my mouth and eyes like water overflowing a bathtub. They splash and dampen any and everything, any and everyone they touch.
I am not comparable to the moon nor the ocean. My phases are complex and colorful. My tides are either overwhelmingly high, or unfathomably low.
There is no in between.
