bitch!! @7th-swan - Tumblr Blog

i think i am of the dark, but not the suffocating, frightful dark. more like the velvet softness of a warm lightless night. unknown and obscured, but comfortable and welcoming. darkness isn’t inherently evil.

ketzalcoatl

ketzal_coatl

un-sp-blog

and it’s on gloomy days like these that i just feel so miserably, helplessly lonely. these are the times that remind you that loneliness means so much more than just the feeling of being alone, and its solution is not just to be around people. loneliness is more than just a feeling, it’s a state of being, it’s a method of existing, it’s not something you can just pull yourself out of.

god i wish you were here

un-sp-blog

so there’s the thing that sucks about depression, the thing where you’re tired all the time and you don’t know why, and sometimes it’s physiological and sometimes it’s cognitive and a lot of times it’s both. interacting with people makes you tired, but maybe being by yourself is even worse. you can’t bring yourself to care enough about anything to stay awake for it. sometimes you sleep 16 hours at a time because at least when you’re unconscious you don’t have to deal with the way you’re… feeling? is it feeling? or is the absence of it? either way, sleep becomes a refuge. it no longer serves the purpose of reinvigorating your spirit or passing the dark lonely hours of the night. it’s a means of escape. you might wake up after a solid nine hour rest to birdsong and a lovely sunrise, and you decide to turn your back on it and return to that comfortable abyss of sleep, because the sun means a new day, and a new day means thinking and feeling and having responsibilities and you are just so tired. i wouldn’t say the sleep is good, because it’s not. it’s just better than the alternative.

so the real tragedy, then, is the thing they don’t talk about so much, the thing where your will is so utterly depleted that you cannot make yourself sleep. you could be utterly exhausted, could have slept for no more than a mere hour the night before but rather than sleeping you just sit in your bed and sulk. maybe you scroll through your feed on your phone, your brain barely registering that the little black pixels make up words on the screen. it’s not just that the process of getting ready for bed is too much, because you’ve skipped that before. it’s the actual act of closing your eyes and submitting yourself to that waiting darkness that is just far more than your mind can take. it’s all you want to do, it’s your only safety, but you just can’t. so you’ll continue to be awake and aware, at least as much as you can be with the thick, choking grey veil of depression that has long been settled over your senses.