Sunday, March 13, 2011

Weekend Creation Blog Hop

This is my own picture so I am allowed to use it! Feel free to use it!
It is Plymouth, MA.

It's bitter cold.  Not the kind that makes you shiver, but the kind that makes you feel like tiny needles are poking into any exposed skin leaving marks where other needles will bite in deeper.  The water is blue and choppy, but I can't tell if its a pod of whales, right whales, or just fish.  Seagulls and seals brave what I'm sure is iceberg cold water.  It's cold enough to numb my toes in July, I can only imagine what it would do in March even with the bright sun.  Rocks litter the beach, white, gray, brown, red, pink, rust.  They make it hard to walk in my boots, but then I hadn't planned to come here to this empty parking lot, to this shuttered restaurant.  The jetty to my left is braved by a lone kite flyer.  The lime green breaks the watery blue of the sky, its brightness making up for the lack of color in that small part of the sky.  Giant mounds of rocks look like piles of shit left by some giant creature unknown to me.  Perhaps it is my life, representative of what I've amounted to, what I've accomplished.  They are too large to be washed away or even covered by high tide.  Even the fierce nor'easters won't wash those rocks away.  They are as permanent as the ocean behind them and as steadfast as the rocky beach before them.  I stumble back to my car.  No answers here.  Only freezing fingers and ears.  A wind whipped face and a pile of rocks.  Solid.  Unmoving.  Ugly.

Heather Town Neck Beach Sandwich

Monday, March 7, 2011

Monday Madness

Monday Madness is a meme started by Shah at Words in Sync to blather on about mental illness or provide useful information or share something with the rest of the group.  I tend to blather.  So, here's my blather:

I'm so tired of the cold of the aching loneliness.  Depression is a lonely disease.  No matter how many people support you, only you are in it and only you can get out of it.  Only you can see the darkness, get lost in it, lose your way to the light, can't find your way out.  Only you cry and wish for someone to hold you through the pain and loneliness.  Only you feel the pain.  Only you lose track of time as you sit in your darkness.  There is no reading, no writing, no talking , no smiles no socializing, no answering the phone, no Faith, no belief, no trust that this will ever end.  There is only time and darkness.  And I sleep waiting for the light to find me again.  Waiting without hope.  Because hope is light and I am completely black.  Drenched in it, encased in it, floating in it, weighed down by it, drowning in it.  But for two pin pricks of light, no bigger than the eye of a needle, I would end the blackness permanently.  But one pin prick is 11 and the other is 14 and they have a lifetime of fighting this blackness.  And if I take the coward's way out, if I don't fight for the light, then they might not either. So I suffer the blacknes because of them and hope they remember to fight.