The Melancholies

This case of melancholies I’ve been experiencing has gripped me hard – it is trying to pull me down to dance in that all too familiar spiral tango again.

Is it bad that I want to let it take over and run its course?

Sometimes it only stays a few hours, but this time it’s lingering, nagging at me, catching me off guard. I can still somewhat function in my day-to-day life.

Depression knocks at my door now and then to remind me it’s sticking around. It likes to surprise attack me at the most inopportune times, like when I am driving. Those are the times it throws me into the cluster-fuck of retrospect and comparison.

 

I go to war with my memories. I fight against myself. I fight against the void.

 

This early, cool fall weather we’ve been having is forcing me to face these invisible demons down. I have no sword or shield, so I am at a disadvantage. I must always be on guard and have my wits about me.

Depression is still within me as much as I try to deny it – it is very much a part of me. Times like this it becomes loud and obnoxious. It wants to invade and fill me up. It wants to suck the life out of me and leave me an empty shell to walk this earth and interact with others.

It takes everything I have inside to resist it. Some days I think it would be easier to just yield and give in. But I’m a fighter. I’m not that easy. I’ve won the war all of these years, I’m not about to give it all up and let depression win.

So many long and hard-fought battles within and outside of myself. Funny enough, depression is the only committed relationship I’ve ever had that’s lasted.

I have way too many battles to fight, more than I should. This is a result of countless years of recklessly throwing myself out to the wolves.

I’ve also been feeling the extremes of attraction and repulsion once again. It’s my old self, with all the bad habits and horrible judgment pitted against my new and somewhat unstable self.

My “new self” hasn’t had enough time to dig in my heels and solidify my roots. I’m easily swept into a whirlwind of thoughts that want to tear me away and drag me backward – back to spiritually draining situations that result in endless doses of self-loathing.

Sometimes that actually sounds good, because I’ve grown so accustomed to it – but that’s easy. Too easy to do. I’m not about easy anymore. I’m all about ripping myself away from my comfort zone, even if it means being vulnerable and possibly getting hurt.

If I’m uncomfortable and challenged then I know I’m doing something right. I want to do things the right way for a change, especially with relationships.

The artist in me fights wanting a traditional relationship, wanting something so conventional. Something normal. I’ve always equated normal with boring. Vanilla. I’m far from normal.

I hope to find my muse soon. I’ve met so many false prophets over the years it’s very disheartening.

This week alone, I’ve heard at least three friends curse all to hell men, love and all it entails. That really is a lot of people, if you knew how many people I actually open up to. It saddens me to hear these friends and their words of defeat. 

As much as I am a cynic when it comes to men, relationships, and love, I do still believe with all that is in me that true love exists. It has to.

Even in this world of instant gratification, selfishness, pride, perversions, and war, true love is out there.

True love is waiting – glowing ever so faintly, tarnished and covered with the dust and ruin of this ugly world. 

I cannot let the melancholies win. I will not capitulate.

I have too much invested in myself to just give in and up at this point. I am a badass, I will fight with every last ounce of energy in me. 

With perseverance and hope, I will find my light again and win yet another battle.