Keep On Living

Keep on Living

It’s not easy to write when you have a depression.

It’s tremendously difficult to write anyting smart, brilliant and funny when you’re clinically depressed for a long time.

It’s like sharing your body with different personalities, one of which just wants some warmth and love while the other one wants to obliterate you.

It’s like running your heart out but never being able to reach your destination,

Never being able to move even an inch.

Having depression is like both feeling imprisoned in your body, and yet not even feeling that you exist for real or that you’re visible.

It’s having good days, when you’re laughing with your friends and feel almost happy.

It’s this dull pain, disappointment, saddness and fiery aching when those good days end, and you’re left alone in the ocean of pain with your dark thoughts.

It’s feeling almost normal and enjoying small things in life for some time,

Untill you feel hopeless and completely useless and not deserving to live.

It’s making a happy face for people around you and pretending you’re okay,

While on the inside you’re screaming in hysteria.

It’s trying to stay strong for your parents and dearest ones, not to disappoint them, not to show them the seriousness of your condition,

While thinking and trying to logically plan when you should finally put an end to all of this.

It’s not your demons whom you have to fight when you have a depression.

It’s looking in the mirrow just to understand that you yourself are your biggest enemy.

It’s fighting with yourself deep in the sombre dungeons of your brain all over again, day by day, without holidays or weekends.

It’s still having strength not to lose it all and not to blend into nothingness.

It’s having courage to look yourself in the eyes and keep on fighting.

It’s still having the nerve

To keep on 

Living.

© illirein 2017

Obscene Mechanics

Even saints Have a moment Of weakness Indicative Of faith That is tested Under stress In response To disaster By the obscene Mechanics Of loss-

That is everyday Lived Without question   Of the emptiness Thought To be easy Or spent In the science Of static Like a theory Of noise Without end

A sound And sin Of omission Attributed To cause   For abandon   That’s blamed On the laws Of devotion Whose precedent Is death By our need

To acquire And beg Such acceptance In pursuit Of a dream That is distant And solace At the edge Of obsession We barter And beg With our hearts

As martyrs Of hope In seclusion For an anger And math Gone imbalanced Like equations Unsolved For an answer And philosophy Taught Is our mess  

Without proof Or distinct Provocation But the absence Of love In our waiting For the semblance Of God In some partner Or evidence As close As it gets.

- J. Pigno

You can learn a lot about someone from watching how they treat those experiencing tragedy.

T. Wuggles (via wnq-writers)

No matter how loud you scream, no one will come save you.

Anonymous (via wnq-anonymous)

Forgive me for I have lose my mind!

Sane Lunatic

I dare you to romanticize.

Romanticize your scars. Find truth in retelling their origins like they’re battle wounds. See the power in surviving anything that made a lasting mark, on your skin or on your soul. You are a warrior. You have celebrated countless victories and outlasted so many defeats. When it’s again time to fight, you won’t surrender. You’ll gain a story to tell another day.

Romanticize your senses. The shadows that play in the corners of your eyes are your guides. Let them show you the adventure in the mundane. See the life in passersby that you will never meet again, and imagine their stories. Find the joy in surprises that interrupt your routine. Let smells be intoxicating. Let sounds fill your body with an inexplicable fire. You think you hear someone whisper your name as you walk down the street, but when you look up, you see no one. Believe that you just missed an angel. It will try again when you’re ready.

Romanticize your surroundings. Feel how morning sunlight coaxes you awake. See the ocean in the ripples of your blankets, how they fold and unfurl like waves and wrap themselves around your body. There are specks of dust floating in the air. Understand it as the fairy dust of our world. There is magic in the moments that pass as you drift from unconscious to aware. Take care not to miss them.

Romanticize yourself. Find no shame in viewing yourself as a protagonist. Know that days you feel you’ve wasted only add to future experiences. Find your faults and honor them. Your imperfections are the shadows that give your highlights depth. Without them, you’d lose all dimension. Your life is scrawled in ink on weathered pages. Hear pens scratching paper as the words of your story come alive. It is a miracle of probability that you exist. That alone is worth celebrating.