January 2009
10 posts
5. Static.
There is no defence or offence; no shield to protect me or weapon to repell.
There is no thought that isn’t greased with these cycles of mood; no nerve that hasn’t been touched by the black dog inside of me.
There’s no movement; just static.
No hope - just static.
No ears - just static.
No voice - just static.
And the restless frustration from endurance is static. Laying...
4. Collosus.
I am at the height of my illness and am now more aware of my rapid cycling than previously. No, I’m not OK. I am depressed.
I feel hopeless and alone and I have nothing to look forward to.
My creativity has vanished. It feels stunted, aborted or miscarried before given the chance to be realised. Still-born. Static. Not even formed.
This is the collosus that grinds me down, that has gutted...
3:37pm, 27.01.09
I have gone to bed. I spent the morning chatting on the internet but it was more like sitting and watching other people chat.
When I attempted to talk, no one appeared to be listening or responding so that is why I eventually gave up.
I even put my web-cam on but no one looked at me. Maybe the odd ‘glance’ as it were but they quickly turned me off.
So then I decided to turn off my...
2. Care.
I’m trying hard to stay positive but there is nothing and so what’s the point in writing any of this?
What is the point? ‘cause no one will read it.
No one cares, Lee.
They do. They don’t. They do. They don’t.
They don’t even care enough that they don’t care.
It’s not even a question of care.
They just get on with their lives and that’s...
1. Forgotten.
Though the tears dripped onto the carpet, the shoes still tread forgotten moisture among the threads and though frustration reigned, your arms still held and the problems were forgotten.
You said I was a ‘great guy’ but I had to think that too.
But you need to understand that my attempts to please you were a means to please me.
I misread your signals because there were none; maybe...
