Deeply pressed in
Being pressed down by…life?
I am weak, but I am heavy.
So, so heavy.
So dense I am made by being crushed so hard.
I am so numb,
maybe as a defense…
because all the emotions are so intense in all directions.
Sharing the tip of the iceberg.
I am so heavy and sad.
This state always tells me that it’s here to STAY,
that it’s actually my natural state.
Are you here to stay?
Of course you are…but are you who I really am?
You come in…making me feel oh so hopeless.
I cannot talk myself out of it, because none of me believes that I am anything more than this…all I can do is observe it. Play with it. Write about it. Describe it. That feels distancing, but I’m still in the smog. Thick and nasty and suffocating me. There are no expectations because I am shitty to begin with. I try and try and try but it’s hard when I am dirt and just fall back to the ground. That’s where I reside, always. It’s the wind that picks me up…momentarily until I get to fall back to my natural resting place. The dirt. I am dirt. I am shit. It’s just how it is, I’m not being hard on myself. It’s just how it is. I’m not being mean to myself, I am just politely seeing the truth. It’s relaxing to realize my true state, because I don’t need to wear my masks. I can relax and just be me. A scumbag, worthless, taking from the world and never giving. Ego tries to play me up to more than what I really am. But I can only play myself up so far before I remember: I am worthless. The thought of that makes me feel settled.
I’m not trying to be emo, or dramatic. I’m just trying to understand myself. This is the only thing that makes sense. I AM depression. I am the dirt, the scum. Actually no, scum and dirt implies that it was once something? I was never anything. I am nothing. (But I am still dirt and scum).
I am scum and that is true and simple. Might as well have fun with it? I have nothing to lose because I have nothing. I can only go up from here…maybe, idk, except I am nothing.