I Replay Memories in My Head

For the past three years of my life... I have been deeply depressed.

How do you tell the world what you have gone through? How do you share... what you can only hear in your head? I've never known how to transfer my thoughts into reality, into words even. Lately, I feel that I have slipped entirely, I have become some other thing. I understand the change, it makes sense. I must grow; there is no stopping time. I like this version of me; she is very raw and complete. I wonder if my dreams really will come true, I wonder often actually, if I am mad? If along some line, on a forgotten road...I lost my mind? Everything makes sense to me now, yet nothing does, all at the same time. I question my questioning; I question what all of this is for. I could spend the rest of my life thinking, truly I could. I could stay in an empty castle, all by myself, for weeks on end. And throughout the entire time, I would have kept myself company. It would be I who speaks to myself; it would be I who engages my thoughts and perceptions. It is I, the inquisitive nature that never lends a moment of boredom, it is I, the one who speaks - who never misses a beat. She is so precise, so unique, so attentive to her true nature, so cautious to erasure. So nestled on freedom, so strong in her embrace, till it is she...who meets her fate...face to face, this time. Nowhere to hide, no place of ease, a cage of windows, but who has my keys?

Sometimes it is easier to speak in riddles, or to speak in code, or whatever made up structure I wish to use. It is all the same, I wish to say something, but I don't. What is that called, repression? I believe that's what I've been doing all this time, bludgeoning myself with shame, embedding some odd fear into my vessel. Calling it my own, even worse. I am coming out of that; you have no idea how good it feels. How good it felt when I first heard my voice...when I realized that I could sing, like actually sing. It felt like magic. It sounded so nice too, and I didn't get upset with myself, or reject what I was hearing. I actually liked my voice; I love my voice. I love the way it sounds, I love the harmony, I love the tone, I love everything about myself. It took a long time coming I'll tell ya that much. I had it once before... from my birth up until 12 years old, I was golden. I embodied divinity each and every day, I was in flow with the rhythm of my life, everything worked out, and everything was perfect. Of course, in the middle of being 12, that reality was shattered. The golden magic dust that filled the air, suddenly fell flat. Until greyness filled every crevice. When even, under the pillows - there lied grey. For many years it stayed like that. I figured leaving would bring back that joy; I thought maybe happiness could exist somewhere else. I told myself it was my environment that was keeping me unhappy, it was the sad family, and the house full of secrets, that through so many storms...grew cold and stuffy. It felt like the house was killing us from the inside out. My parents hoarding skyrocketed, the backyard was a maze of cardboard boxes, housing random pieces of furniture and decor. It was a mad house. And so, I left. Thinking again, that happiness could only find me elsewhere. I searched for happiness and a good life in every corner I turned. I always held the thought that even a single second could change your life, you could turn the corner and the man of your dreams is walking directly towards you, you stumble into a cafe to use the restroom and a casting agent asks if you can fill in for a small role this Friday, someone you've always wanted to meet is joining the yoga class you just booked. I've always held this optimistic view, I don't know why, it's just what I do. But time and time again, there was never any resolve to my hopeful thoughts. They stayed as such... just thoughts. Fantasies in my head, that I would play out, scene by scene, the perfect hello, the gesturing of interest, the progression, the onlookers, the fanatics, I think of everything. And these thoughts are so rich, so decadent, it makes you want to swim in it. They're so good you stay in it; the fantasy has always been better than reality. Why is that? The world I see in my head is so much more vivid, it beams brighter, it's the happy life. Yet, I've been unsuccessful in acquiring that reality in the here and now. It's making me a bit upset; I usually always get what I want. I don't say that to sound spoiled, I say it to show my skill and determination. It always works. Yet this time, it has been taking longer. The results are not here, and they haven't been here for a very long time. Three years almost, of me waiting. Waiting on what? What am I waiting for? Why hasn't it happened Universe? Tell me what to do and I'll do it. Tell me where to go and I'll go. I know that it is I who must forge my own path, but I ask for guidance, I ask for help, I ask for angels.

Being in control of your life is scary, I can't believe I hold so much responsibility in my hands. It's a lot, and I always want to do a good job. I often wonder if I'm doing the right thing, it seems that, that's the only thing I can do these days. Just sit and think. What grand luxury that plagues me, woe is me for I suffer from thinking too much and too often. I joke, but it is the truth. See, two things can exist at the same time, a luxury could also be a hinderance, vice versa. Where do I put these thoughts of mine, tell me, is there some cave in the ocean? Is there a vault that can house this, where can I lay it all to rest? Where can I kiss it goodbye?

X E.S