Thursday, September 17, 2015

Ready

I am in that horrible  empty place again, joyless and weak, a  hollow shell ready to crack at the sound of  whisper,empty but for the constant clamor in my head,the noise that never goes away. Am I the only one that feels this unending sorrow?

If I try to pin down a specific event or trigger for these  terrifying slides down the side of that bottomless pit,I am stymied. They come on me when I least expect them when I am least prepared to deal
with my emotions going all kaflooey. All l know is that i am sliding.
I had a thought about illness and how we face it.  We go to our doctors to help us feel better. And in the time before we see our docs, we want to live. But those of us with with mental illness, all we want is to die. I don't need anything, just  prescription to end this life and i am good to go.

Maybe it sounds like i am being fasicious, not treating a heavy subject with the solemnety it deserves. And it is heavy, far more than i am able to carry at the moment