Flickering moment

I feel burnt out. I’m unable to sit down knowing the time is not right… for anything at all. It is a walk through a pitch dark tunnel with no sight of light or the other end. It feels maybe there’s just that – no end.

20191128_005021I had a big coffee and some cake with cashews to feel elevated. I have a lifestyle alright, it is still difficult for me to cheer up. That’s right I’m unable to cheer up in any way.

It is that feeling of constantly being in denial to smile, to talk, to rejoice. I feel guilty to sleepover tiring myself further. Having food seems a sin. Watching movie is a no-no, listening to songs- nada, socializing- what for?

If I give up now, on the outset, I’ll lose last 3 years of battle. With this, my demon of last 25 years will become even stronger than before. Instead of me looking him in the eye, bidding him farewell, he will own me. In one clean sweep, he will devour me leaving behind the ugly memory of my experiments with disappointments and my failure to fix them.

I realise I’m depressed. I’m unable to see the end to it. Whether I’m upset due to my inability to foresee or unable to develop any sight due to depression- what’s the difference. For now, I’m begging for a clue.

What I need is a sign.

I’m failing to view the lines of tomorrow. Like a horror screenplay set to rewind just before climax, I feel I’m stuck in a loop and I see nothing. I feel nothing. Absolutely nothing excites or even incites me.

I want this moment to end.

I want to weave the threads to future. I want to etch a pattern tastefully ornamental and appealing. I want this feeling of being locked in the bunker to die. I want to remind myself that this too shall pass.

I want the time to stop so I run along and touch the finish line before I lose sight of the race. I want the volcano to erupt me out of the crater so I fly the sky. I want the buds to stay green through the fall just a bit longer so I root the soil well watching it.

I want the Universe to gather all forces in me this once more.

About Olivia

Corporate worker, textile designer, writer.
This entry was posted in My Biopic Log, My mind and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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