Feelings, I guess?

I have spent years, unable to explain how I can feel sometimes. I’ve never been able to word it or express it in a way that makes sense and is understandable. I wrote this a while ago, during what I simply refer to as ‘a mood’. I don’t like the word ‘Depression’, or the phrase ‘mental health’, they annoy me for many reasons. So my personal preference is just simply refer to these times as a mood.

The text below is probably the best I’ve ever managed to explain it, as well as undoubtedly the best writing I have ever done. It’s unfinished, but I guess it’s likely to be added to whenever the urge Being an aspiring writer I chose to start it off as if I was writing a story I guess, it gets erratic and it changes from 3rd to first person but, it was all I could manage.

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‘The warm bed began to feel cold, it’s comfort distorting and the welcoming feeling of the clean sheets doing nothing to mask the weight of the air that was now crushing with a gravity far beyond that which any human should be able to withstand. The mattress turned into stone and the pillows to rocks, no rest to be received here tonight.
Emotions are such a hard thing to explain, the way they contradict each other simultaneously yet coexist in a way that adds to their burden. It is the searing fire of the turmoil you have to live with mixed with the cold apathy of the fact it’s happening. The numbing feeling your mind shields itself with mixed the agony of the past. The grieving over a life lost whilst still alive. To try to sum up how she feels is futile, words just don’t carry the same weight.
It’s crushing, suffocating, heavy and it hurts, it drowns you while you fight to resurface and drags you down every time you get that tiny bit of leeway. It catches you easily no matter how much you run, it’s inescapable and when it catches you it crushes you once again with it’s weight.
It is a fight you cannot win yet you fight anyway because to lose is to die and yet death is your only escape from suffering. But to die is to give up, to come this far and only come this far and if you’re only coming this far why did you bother coming this far to begin with? Why not give up and save years of suffering? Yet at the same time why suffer all this time and keep suffering knowing that the longer time goes on the longer you’re going to have suffered because this is a lifelong thing. What exactly are you fighting for when there is nothing to achieve by doing so? You’ll suffer regardless and the weight will get heavier.
The tears do nothing to alleviate the surge of emotions. The knowledge that she just isn’t meant for this world send more cascading down because she tried didn’t she? She tried so damn hard but there was just too much against her. A whole world out to get her, a world that refused to allow her a home and so she spent her years searching and yearning but never finding that place, never finding a way in which she could belong. She just existed, from one day to the next all she could do was endure and exist, her mind wandering within itself picturing her wish to cease to exist; to disperse her very particles into the vast nebulas of the galaxy and just be free. A soul without the weight of a body or a mind, free to explore.

Fear, most people fear something, some people fear death itself. She doesn’t fear death, she fears life. To her death is a warm embrace into strong arms protecting you from everything around. There is no safety in fear, fear can control you, mould you into a mass of panic and anxiety which you can’t reshape from.

I feel hollow, like an empty shell caught in the ebb and flow of the tide of emotion. The husk of what remains once the storm has calmed. How is it possible to feel so much, then just as suddenly feel so empty and so numb. Numb to the point of longing for the previous onslaught of crushing, dehumanising, crippling waves that engulfed and drowned you in their fury. Numb to the point of knowing that without these waves, you wouldn’t know how to exist as this storm is all you’ve known, all you know how to be and yet you don’t know who you truly are. You don’t know how to live but hell knows you know how to survive. No tide nor weight is ever enough to defeat the stubbornness you possess. The only part of who you are that you know. You don’t quit, you don’t stop, you just keeping getting back up and carrying on no matter how many times you get knocked down. Life’s personal punching bag.’

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Well, that was the rambling. I am aware it doesn’t explain much, but there’s a lot more to feelings, emotions & moods than what you see on facebook memes.

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