when it fades to black
I have been reluctant to write, afraid of putting my darkness on display.
What I want to share is the fruit of the land, the butter on my bread, and the foreign tongues that yell back at me. But I can’t do this until I write out the darkness.
Over rolling hills, a seductive landscape and a golden sun, I paint my own clouds.
And I hate to be down. I hate myself for it. I feel I have no right to it. I hate to feel my body heavy, forcing itself out of bed, out of the comfortable numbness that sleep has to offer.
I hate to feel myself irritated by people I love. Angry at someone for approaching me, for speaking to me, while my thoughts spin like a whirlwind in my head.
These are more than bad moods that come and go. They are more than a stage of teenage angst. The moods are heavy. They are ugly. They take my mind to places I’d rather not go. Force me to scrutinize myself until I am brought to the ground, grovelling, searching for a crumb of confidence.
And just as quickly I am up again, my passions brought back to life. I am able to write, to socialize, to drink life liberally, and clink my glass with others in a toast to simply being.
There are medical names for this type of mood disorder, but I’m hesitant to label myself. Does it make a difference if I do? Still, I find comfort in the thought that I’m not alone, that I can blame the chemicals in my brain rather than myself.
Keeping the darkness inside of me only pushes me deeper, and I’m afraid it will all fade to black.
So I’m releasing it. I’m pulling the rusty key from my pocket, opening the cage and setting it free.
This is who I am. I am over emotional, up and down, hot and cold, beautiful and ugly. And in fighting the taboo of keeping it to myself, I'm one step closer to freedom.
In the end, this is what I crave.
I crave the sun, its heat pounding down on my body, the sound of my own laughter, a lighter step, an open mind and the confidence to take on anything.
Nothing's easy, but already I can see a cloud in the sky shifting.
What I want to share is the fruit of the land, the butter on my bread, and the foreign tongues that yell back at me. But I can’t do this until I write out the darkness.
Over rolling hills, a seductive landscape and a golden sun, I paint my own clouds.
And I hate to be down. I hate myself for it. I feel I have no right to it. I hate to feel my body heavy, forcing itself out of bed, out of the comfortable numbness that sleep has to offer.
I hate to feel myself irritated by people I love. Angry at someone for approaching me, for speaking to me, while my thoughts spin like a whirlwind in my head.
These are more than bad moods that come and go. They are more than a stage of teenage angst. The moods are heavy. They are ugly. They take my mind to places I’d rather not go. Force me to scrutinize myself until I am brought to the ground, grovelling, searching for a crumb of confidence.
And just as quickly I am up again, my passions brought back to life. I am able to write, to socialize, to drink life liberally, and clink my glass with others in a toast to simply being.
There are medical names for this type of mood disorder, but I’m hesitant to label myself. Does it make a difference if I do? Still, I find comfort in the thought that I’m not alone, that I can blame the chemicals in my brain rather than myself.
Keeping the darkness inside of me only pushes me deeper, and I’m afraid it will all fade to black.
So I’m releasing it. I’m pulling the rusty key from my pocket, opening the cage and setting it free.
This is who I am. I am over emotional, up and down, hot and cold, beautiful and ugly. And in fighting the taboo of keeping it to myself, I'm one step closer to freedom.
In the end, this is what I crave.
I crave the sun, its heat pounding down on my body, the sound of my own laughter, a lighter step, an open mind and the confidence to take on anything.
Nothing's easy, but already I can see a cloud in the sky shifting.
posted by Gillian Young at 8:17 AM
1 Comments:
hey gillian
i have the utterly worst moods as well. And everything sucks ass ( not quite as good at writing as u)
its your mind trying to hold you back, u gotta tell your brain to go fuck itself and dont think for a while. its but possible so do it.
andrew
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