trigger warning: hopelessness and self-destructive thoughts
and sometimes, i swear i can hear the wind whisper. you know? when i’m all alone in a silent house, sitting on the couch, and my brain’s just sorta… cold.
and you could give up. you know. sit here forever, until the permafrost wraps its loving arms around you, and takes you as its own. because you don’t really have to do anything, if you don’t want to. and… it’d be a hell of a lot easier, you know.
to just… give up. and lie in bed all day, scrolling through my phone, watching the autumn leaves be replaced by snow. walk up the endless flight of spiral stairs, that i’ve always kind of known is there, and never come home.
because i’m basically invisible, right? and i mean, if i left… would anyone honestly even know? and i could go. i could forget that this ever happened, and start again. but somehow… no matter how empty i feel, in that moment, i don’t know. i just can’t do it.
and isn’t it so fucking ironic? that it’s only when you’ve stranded yourself in the eye of the storm, you finally realize…
you were never meant to be alone.
So because I actually saw one of my friends for the first time in two months today (where I live, lockdown restrictions are finally starting to loosen and our premier just said that was okay a little while ago) and did not work or check my phone other than for, like, two minutes to play a cursed ad I saw on the internet and quickly post a poem on Instagram. Which is not, like, insane or anything, but felt really good, but also kind of took place at the worst time for me to be taking a break, right before a posting day–when I have a ton of stuff to get done, so if this is completely incoherent it’s because it’s exactly midnight right now, and I honestly just want to sleep. So, very ironically, considering this very depressing poem, I’m actually feeling pretty okay right now.
But however, in general, I guess I’ve just been feeling really… stuck. Of late. Getting work done feels like dragging my feet through this thick quicksand, and there’s this little anxiety voice in the back of my head, telling me–that I need to do this thing, I just kinda… sit there, in this weird, sleep-deprived, trance-like state, quite similar to the one I’m in now, watching YouTube or reading or whatever, just completely transfixed and unable to move, so fucking tired it’s not even funny–but the kind of tired where your dumbass brain can’t even think clearly enough, to, like, I don’t know, get some sleep to maybe help with that lovely exhaustion we have there sir?
And I guess it’s just put me in this really dark place, where… I guess I just kind of want to give up? All the time? Everything just feels so fucking hard, i don’t know. I go between sluggish and unmotivated and frenetic and motivated to the point of it being self-destructive. That’s the feeling I tried to channel in this poem. Also, this draws some strong inspiration from my favourite childhood book of all time, Zoom, which is this picture book with this magic house–that features one scene where Zoom, this cat who goes on adventures with his human friend Maria, goes up her large fancy flight of stairs in search of the north pole, and the whole house is all spooky and cold and covered in snow, which is an image that’s always kinda stuck with me over the years for some reason. So enjoy that random fun fact.
Anyhow, I hope that was an entertaining life update to read, and I am going to sleep now and make my therapist proud, because I see her tomorrow. I hope you’re all still holding up okay. ❤
Lots of love,