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Breath Stealing Depression

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Nihil Loc
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Posted 04/17/08 - 9:25 PM:
Subject: Breath Stealing Depression
Inside of the gut is a feeling of resistance. Every breath is labored with visceral strain. Anxiety flourishes. There is a desire to run away from everything I was taught to value and embrace. Better to die hungry in the bush than to continue badly says the voice in my head.

A total lack of control and an ability to plan. An acceptance of a pessimistic fate, a growing self-fulfilling prophecy of doom. This is the conditioned me, wholly preoccupied: lost.

Lost in feeling, drowning in it.

The frustration of not being able to decide the smallest things. The pain of identifying self, building it up or reflecting it in mirrors of form. Rejecting others for my own limitation reflected in them. Vertigo.

I don't know myself. I am multitude of incompatible beings who share one cramped body - wounded by the internal strain of conflict, between life and death, this or that, then and now; this is a fleeting and ruthless game of needful facts, clothed in needful illusions, spinning around in a cell. For what!

Why can't I let go? Why the resistance? Why the ill fantasy that affects me?

Answers come that further condemn me and attract my doom: we are merely biological machines whose performance is based on a genetic predisposition for ideal or missing environments. We live and die through our illusions -- temporal, purposeless, strange forms.

Time erases everything. Time is death.

I will my suffering. There is pleasure behind it. It is easier to resist growth, to forgo life, than to change.

A programmatic mythology: as is now, as always will be, and only death will effect change and true transcendence.

Suffering inside, my demons, they come with torches, pitchforks and knives to kill me and rid me of myself.

One last question: will I die from this or will a breaking point change me?







Edited by Nihil Loc on 04/17/08 - 9:29 PM
libertygrl
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Posted 04/17/08 - 11:46 PM:

hug

heart
Nexus
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Posted 04/18/08 - 6:30 AM:

Honest, a hard subject to write clearly about.

clap
Nihil Loc
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Posted 09/23/08 - 1:50 AM:

Pretend we are face to face and I move my hips saying with a seductive grin, "Be modest with your flattery."

And parrot in the room would say, "Seek no critique for fear of the Revelation."

The details of a caged bird's life don't amount to much. He listens to imitate the hollow blurbs of his master. He poops on his newspaper and sawdust. He gnaws on a Styrofoam pad.

While the parrot parrots (t)his oblivion, the sheets begin to burn in the bedroom and a riot of screams erupt.

If one moves by the door and fancies a peak, something therein resembles the mysterious tail of an autodafe.

"Be quick to turn away,"
The villagers say
"From the tail of the autodafe."

It is attached to a beast of magnanimous flex
That consumes itself as did Oedipus Rex
In a fatal explosion of incredible sex

So Beware
Of that terrible tail
The living are wise to say
That 'o so terrible' tail
Of the mysterious autodafe.



e.
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Posted 09/26/08 - 2:51 AM:

Nihil Loc wrote:
I will my suffering.


Nihil;

I've been clear of depression for two years now. When you're clear of it you can recognise a depressive thought a mile off, both in yourself and others.

When I was in it, I had to remember daily "The depression is not me."

e.


smokinpristiformis
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Posted 10/04/08 - 3:19 AM:

I can't imagine what it must be like having a depression.

Can everyone get it from being knocked back in life or is there another reason? or is it something that's in one's character?

Spindlework
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Posted 11/05/08 - 8:18 PM:

Nihil Loc wrote:

Suffering inside, my demons, they come with torches, pitchforks and knives to kill me and rid me of myself.

In the glass--mercifully ceasing to be a mirror--there exists an arcana, a source of great potential. With the right pair of eyes you can find the treasure of the Llanganatis: hundreds of sharp golden daggers, all more than willing to slice and tear, to satisfy the itch, if only it were asked of them. In the sum of every new recess there is the strain of a face and the lineaments of the hands embracing it; the will of escape, bound with the purveyors of will.
libertygrl
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Posted 11/05/08 - 10:03 PM:

beautifully spoken, spindlework. welcome to the couch smiling face
smokinpristiformis
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Posted 11/06/08 - 8:21 AM:

Wicked !

Welcome to the couch. nodpeace
Brinni
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#10 - Quote - Permalink
Posted 11/07/08 - 5:20 PM:

I loved the part "the pain of identifying self." Its odd how thats such a painful thing for us...I struggle with that. Its a scary thing.
I love your insight, Nihil.takes a bow
Spindlework
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Posted 11/08/08 - 1:01 PM:

Thanks for the welcomes smiling face
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