Don’t believe it
It eats and uglifies the image in the mirror, deadens us past the point of weeping, says life is hopeless, black hole swallowing light, sun no longer bright, birdsong muted, everyone uncaring, no escape from gravity well…
Spouse or lover seems so far away, or non-existent; love no longer connects, there is no point, when self is revolting, achievements ridiculous, mistakes magnified past redemption; no place for craven existence anywhere…
no home, vocation pitiful or non-existent, feelings of worth delusions, comfort from others insincere mouthings, no relief, holy bonds imaginary…
Every color is leached out, nothing left but gray or black or emptiness; breathing a great effort, heavy, as are arms, legs, head, heart. Loins no longer sing, beautiful creations meaningless, and worst of all
we burden those we love, bring them down, rob their happiness, believe them better off without us.
If God or gods are there, they do not care, are out of reach, irrelevant. Non-existence beckons pretending it is heaven.
Depression lies, it poisons our memories, makes us forget all things precious, especially those who love us, yes they love us, we must not rip out their hearts, grief multiplied infinitely to total despair; other lives than ours are lost…
We must somehow remember what loving life is really like, even when it burns worse than acid. If we can muster energy to end ourselves, surely enough strength is left to reach out to anyone or anything other than the void, anyone or anything to remind us there is a road back while we still have heartbeats, breathing lungs, faintest glimmers of light.
No need for goodbye notes, funerals, bottomless grief, no need to rip the hearts out of those who care, and yes they really care, no need to condemn them to that awful pain, torturing grief, guilt, horror, with “closure” an unreal fairytale never to be realized.
Reach out to anyone or anything that keeps your heart beating, lungs breathing; reach out, allow help, accept caring, call the number 1–800–273- 8255. If speaking is too hard text/chat 1–800–273–8255.
I know there is a road back; I’ve been on it from the dark side. I’ve had my heart ripped out more than once. I’ve been far too close to ripping out the hearts of those I love. Depression lies. Don’t listen to it. Reach out.
1–800–273–8255.
24 hours a day.
~ Wry Welwood
24th of June 2021.
Dedicated to Alison, Collin, and all the others.
Thanks to Denise Larkin.
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