Oh, the darkness, it’s a weird thing. This past week or two, the speed of life overtook me. For the most part, I don’t notice it’s even happening until I’m laying face down on my couch unable to move, wondering why I’m the worst at everything and everybody else is so much better at it all than me.
But this isn’t my first fight. I know now how deceitful my own mind can be. So when I don’t like what it has to say, I talk back. Sometimes I ignore myself. Sometimes I let the recording answer. The one that says: “Your call is very important to us. It will be answered in the order it was received and right now there is a line of self loathing thoughts ahead of you, attempt to rally, so sit the fuck down.”
But other times I listen to me. I lift my twelve ton stone self up off the couch and I get on with it. I go to the park. I meet a friend for lunch. And when they ask me how I am I say “terrible. I’m terrible.” And surprisingly, saying I’m terrible feels better than saying nothing at all.
And then slowly but surely, I don’t feel as terrible. Sure, a week has passed. But it used to be a month. And before that it was years. So I’ll give the darkness a week this time. But next time, it might only get a day. I’m wise to it’s game. I know it’s a dirty liar. And I’m finding less and less patience for your lying kind, Darkness.
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