I suddenly feel as heavy as rain. Rain is so heavy that it must fall. It’s 6:15pm and I could probably go to sleep.

I have emotional problems. I don’t believe in taking medication for that. I believe in communicating, in healing through the body, through holistic means. Here I am spending money on pills and pills and then some more pills, waiting for one to help. Is brain chemistry really different than our emotional lives? Emotions are chemicals, passing from neuron to neuron. What if I just did yoga? They say exercise is just as good an anti-depressant as anti-depressants. But it’s easier to take a pill, so people do it. And it’s hard to make money off of someone running or jogging every morning. What am I getting myself into? It’s raining. I used to love walking in the rain. Mental illness. I have certain imbalances. I am aching, I have always ached for something which I could not put my finger on. Sehnsucht. I have tried to fill it with food, with men, with moving across the country. I used to fill it with dreams, but they’re in short supply. They seem to cost more now. 

Life cannot be as it once was. This is something everyone must digest. Everything is rooted in change. Change, erosion, soil, the earth on which we walk and from which we eat, where again we will go when we die. I am a bit more full of life than I have been. There is the part of me that calls for sleep, an easy, eternal sleep, but now the voice that asks me to stay awake, begs me to stay awake, sounds a bit louder. I am tired. I want rest. But not that kind of rest, she tells me. A nap is fine, but there is much more to be done. The living room has become cold. I am tired of watching Friends. This energy box is draining, but I love sharing my thoughts. I am mourning the loss of what I thought might be a normal life, at some point. Things will be different now, always. Though I made that decision a long time ago, when I first brought a blade to my forearm. I made that decision well before that, I’m sure, in some strange twist of psychology I am yet to discover, in my retrospective, archaeological digs, into the caverns of my personhood.  I am eroding, but being brought into light as well. It is a process, like all the other processes. I need release, my muscles are holding too much life. Time to lay on the floor and breath. Or on the sofa. Lay down, breath, and be grateful for life. 

About Undecided Pseudonym

A woman who remembers enjoying writing.
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