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{by Darknessgazer, Deviant} Ever just want to go back to simpler times? Times . . . without such bearing? I want to go back to 50 lbs. ago, when I thought I was fat. Or 10 lbs. before that before I was diagnosed. That would be even better. Fall of 10th grade. A Christmas Carol. Barely memorable. I know I played the piano in it instead of a role. I never really played a role for her. For anyone but myself.
I don't know what role I'm supposed to play now. I don't have a stage, I don't have an obvious timeframe or goal anymore. I've made it past those, more or less intact.
There's no solace in tonight. I could weep more, I could sedate, I could sleep. Many "I could"'s and few "I will"'s.
3 comments:
*HUGS*
/hugs, my dear
Our melancholy is more a way of life than a mere emotional stumbling block.
"In all it's misery/ it will always be what I loved/ and hated."
-- Aerosmith
I was in A Midsummer Night's Dream my senior year of high school, and I hardly remember anything about it because I was on so many psychotropic drugs. I had bigger roles in other plays. It's not like that performance was pivotal, it's just that the loss of mental sensations makes me feel so sorry.
Even as you feel completely helpless with your abundance of "i coulds" and absence of "i wills," please remember that we have the advantage of being two distinct halves. If melancholy is our sun, then elation is our moon, and nighttime can never be too far away.
E'er poetic. And interesting, how the sun is the sadness. I default equate the night with darkness.
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