a carefully executed crumble

to slowly fall back into the depths of a hazy slog is a miraculously terrifying experience. it’s when all the energy taken for granted starts to dissolve like spray coming out of a nozzle. it starts strong, then slowly loses steam and succumbs to gravity, a force greater than its own. at the end, there’s a sputtering spout producing only the essentials to survive. even that, after a while, leads the origin well to question if the propulsion for each drip will lead to a fruitful spring. the consensus is no, it won’t.

that’s just one of the infinite possibilities for falling into a depression. i’d say today i’m at the part where a ploy seemingly greater than my own spirit spreads its underground revolt. it’s horrifying, but incredibly compelling and absorbing. each option in the present is underscored by a faint, eerie feeling of doom. like no matter how i rouse, it won’t make an impact or a difference. failure or insignificance. a grater shredding all sharpness into a static, worn, and colorless point that bores into the aorta.

i smile when i feel it though. it’s one of the closer relationships i’ve held in this universe. toxic, yes, but unrivaled in its philosophy and angst. their edge of alienation and self-pity makes me feel special. like i’m the only dying flower in a garden of voluminous tulips. it can be addicting to feel unique in any respect, but especially so in regards to depression.

i’m not going to blame society for this pinpointed attack. however, i will state that the stigmatization fuels the inclusiveness. people are uncomfortable talking about mental health. it is easier to keep a mouth shut. most people don’t reply the desired way.

to add to this examination, surprise has no fact in the matter. we all sense the coming raid. us gloomy ghouls with the fortune of multiple relapses acquire a keen awareness for the shadow of an eclipse.

in a similar manner, what comes next is too predictable for a betting man. dropping out of conversations. cancelling appointments. swatting aside obligations. retreating to a comfortable cave to serve the sentence given by no one but ourselves, since higher powers have no reasonable justification for thwarting the life we credit to them (this is of course arguable).

it’s almost pleasant though, to unintentionally disassociate from the daily mold we break our backs to join. the miniscule pleasantries and deeds of good will — they’re inexplicably exhausting. why do we construct, teach, and pass on a system of language overflowing with packing peanuts only to force us to dig for the intended shipment? are we afraid what’s genuine will be damaged without proper padding and protection?

regardless of macro quarrels, it’s a carefully executed crumble. when crumpling, pain and hurt are part of the process. therefore, prevention is not a priority. i’m unconcerned by the scratches and dents bashed by judgementative heuristics because the blood spilt is relative to my pallor. and i’m fading to blank.

– D K T


life ends. why pretend

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