I am not sure what to say. I don't have any amazing thoughts, nor do I have any skills that would translate into what I am writing. Hell, I don't even expect anyone to read this. I am writing this for a purely selfish reason. I am trying to live.
For what seems to be my entire life, I have been fighting depression and, as of late, depression seems to be winning. The past six months have been difficult, and there are times that I have been low. Low to the point where death seems to be a preferable outcome. Death and I have had numerous conversations recently, enticing me into their embrace. For me Death is not a hooded specter, beckoning me with a skeletal finger. Instead, a mirror image argues with me, telling me that I would be better off, I would cause less pain, that the world would be a better place. I am finding my arguments convincing.
But I try to persevere, not for my self, but for those that I love. I remember the friends who have helped me. I remember that my heart no longer belongs to me. I tell myself that there would be countless people who would hurt if I was no longer on this plane... yet I don't believe it. In my mind, I know the intellectual arguments, but I cannot feel them in my soul. Intellectually, I know that my death would be devistating on people. But emotionally, I know that those same people would be better off. My death would bring sadness, yes, but relief as well. I would no longer be a burden to the ones I love. I would no longer cause people pain. In my darker hours, I even feel that God is telling me I should die, and that I am selfish in not complying.
As I write this, I am not planning any action. While I am not currently courting my friend Death, I do long for their arms to wrap around me and carry me onward. I call myself a coward because of this, sure that if I had the strength I would dive head first into Deaths awaiting bosom.
Again, I am not sure what to say, nor if these words will be read. Part of me feels that this is a cathartic exercise, to ensure that Death and I stay apart for as long as we can. Another part of me wonders if this is, in effect, my last Will and Testament.
But a secondary reason occurs to me as I write. In some religious circles demons lose power once the demons name is known, giving one power over it. So I will name my demon. Suicide. I will battle this demon for as long as I can. I am not sure who will win this fight, and there will be times when I am not sure who I will want to win. But I will continue to fight until one of us is the victor. God bless
"of course Death isn't a hooded spectre with a blade; Death is a beautiful maiden mounted on a piebald horse. I thought everyone knew that."
ReplyDelete---Roland of Gilliad
I think you're off to a brave & brilliant start! Don't worry about th' perfection of th' writing: th' catharsis is in th' writing itself. Write what you're feeling for yourself, first and foremost; th' rest will take care of itself. Be strong; know we love you!
Oh, and while I'm thinking about it: your take on demonology is spot on, IMHO. To look that summabitch in th' eye (or inside it's creepy dark hood, as th' case may be; or perhaps it has multiple eyes... on stalks...) and to name it for what it is takes away th' vast majority of it's power.
ReplyDeleteMind, in my experience, while doing so may weaken it significantly, it may still float around you, gibbering and screaming or-- worse-- putting it's arm around your shoulder in a comforting manner, but YOU know it's True Name now; and that puts the balance of power squarely into YOUR Sphere of Control, and that, if nothing else, is a start.