I found myself in these same traps again, in this darkness, where the sun doesn’t shine, and I am lost as lost can be and there is no escape, and there is nothing else to do but suffer. Was this depression talking? It could be. It has been a good part of my life. It is present like never and relevant, and it fucks with me constantly. All these hours of meditation and calming this shit down work only temporarily. It’s like a sunrise in the morning obscured by shitty dark grey clouds that wouldn’t show the beauty of it all. You’ll look to see the wonder of nature, and all you see is sadness all around. You know you want to escape, you know this is not right, you know this is not you, but you can’t. You’ve been part of it, a significant portion of it.

Charles Bukowski wrote, “We don’t even ask happiness, just a little less pain.” Everything will pass someday, somehow, someway. I hope it will. I never liked to be part of this, and this is not the way I am. It just fucking drags you into this mud and smears the fuck out of it on your face and soul. You try to wipe it off, wipe it out, but with time it doesn’t matter. It won’t help you. And you are infected with it. It’s on your breath and face and skin and soul and in your ears and your blood. It is fucking everywhere. You feel it in your chest and spine and arms and legs and brain. How should I deal with it? How to be free and happy again? How to stay away from it? I don’t know. 

I am never a sad person in life as I am trying to be as optimistic as possible, but I cannot sometimes maintain that frame of mind for too long. Something else takes over. Even though there are plenty of reasons to be happy and enjoy life when this fucking darkness comes over, I am down on my knees, struggling to get up and look forward. I guess I did allow this to happened to me somehow. Unintentionally. I was trying to make the broken and useless shit work, and it just wouldn’t, and as time went by, it hit me back hard. It won’t comply. There are many sacrifices to be made, and I think I’ve made too many. Too many to count for, but just enough to make me feel all that now and suffer.