Weather report

Posted on August 23, 2015

0


mistaken

A tropical depression is underway, beware of torrential rains.

The sky is crying and so am I.

But that’s just how I am whenever the storms come to visit.

Take my eternal sadness and double it.

It’s especially alarming with this kind of weather.

At this point, I have already come up with my own “Rainy Day Depression Kit”:

A book, tea, music (preferably consisting of Radiohead, among other sad stuff), and emptiness.

Guaranteed to get one crying in 30 minutes, give or take a second or two.

Storms ahead, everyone is advised to stay inside.

I don’t know when this Frankenstein monster of feelings started.

I don’t know what made me like this, or why I am like this.

All I know is that I want to stop it.

Stop all of these horrible, terrible, no-good, fucking feelings.

I want to stop being me.

I want to miraculously find a switch in my body that will reset me to my factory settings.

You know, like what parents do when a kid fucks up their toy too much.

“Restore to default settings?”

Yes.

Restore to when nothing was wrong.

When my “default settings” were not yet sadness, loneliness, emptiness, regret, and hopelessness.

When I still found a reason to be happy.

When 3 AM was still a time for sleep, not a time for enumerating reasons why I’m better off dead.

A flood alert is in place, all work and classes are suspended.

Sometimes I just want to suspend my life altogether.

Because not even the people I talk to about this sickness know how to make me genuinely happy.

Or maybe just die for about five minutes, dying would probably be messy and I won’t do a good job at it.

I remember telling someone that when I was in high school.

The whole dying for about five minutes, that is.

I just want to feel the sensation of…feeling nothing.

I want to feel what it’s like to jump off a building,

or from an airplane,

hurtling off from a great height,

immersed in the sensation of falling,

without any fucks to give on whether I end up on sea or concrete.

I want to feel the falling,

the moment when ┬áit’s almost like oxygen is escaping my lungs,

when it feels like I’m falling through a sort of wormhole,

suspended in space and time.

I just want to be gone,

away from my shallow laughter,

away from a heart slowly rotting to its core,

away from these eyes that have gotten so used to crying,

away from a confusing life of covering up despair.

Away from a brain nearly collapsing upon itself like a black hole.

Away from this girl slowly losing herself to the point that she’s unable to recognize herself in the mirror anymore.

Away from a life that is always in a state of calamity.

Oh dear, how funny.

The rain has stopped as I am about to finish this…whatever.

Perhaps it’s a sign that I should, as Shia LaBeouf said, stop giving up?

I look up at the sky and see some stars.

Glimmers of hope.

But I know the rains will come back, and I can’t ignore it.

Because like depression, it’s not something you can just ignore when you can feel it everywhere.

Drowning you, drowning your world.

But right now, the rain has stopped.

My depression hasn’t.

But the weather is telling me that I should try to stop too.

I will.

I will try.

‘Til then, I remain at a default sadness,

hampered slightly by a sudden halt of rain.

‘Til then, I shall remain:

Partly cloudy, with possible storms ahead.

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