Life is unfair, life doesn't give you second chances, life is a bitch, life is like a bowl of jalapenos that you eat and regret, that's life, that's how things go, life hands you an umbrella and then takes it away when it rains, life is a solitary road that you traverse to a destination unknown, life is, life is, life just is.....
Morbidity, morosity, twisted imaginings, imagining the worst - life doesn't turn out the way you expect, you outgrow things....
This is what he believed in. Depressive isn't it? But yes, that's the way he was. Forever being the victim, forever being the martyr.
And then one day the weight of all of that despair came crashing down, each bit of self judgement and self loathing coupled with a feeling of helplessness and despair. He'd wake up each day and instead of finding the pitter patter of raindrops soothing he'd see the sky crying. Instead of the warmth of the sun he'd see the piercing bright sunlight that was baking the earth. Where coffee had tasted invigorating it was loatsome and chocolate too sweet for comfort.
Loneliness, self loathing, self pity - you name it and he wallowed in it. And the worst bit - I didn't hurt anyone, I didn't do anything wrong, I didn't make anyone's life difficult. Then why ME???
Slowly yet surely the downward spiral began. Work, cooking, writing - nothing made sense. And that's when he realised what was missing.
One day he resolved that enough was enough. One day at a time he decided he would make thins better. One day at a time he would make things alright. One day at a time.
Bit by bit he picked up each thing that was bothering him, reduced it to it's normal size and where there were boulders there were now tiny pebbles, where the sky wept it sent life and nourishment, where the sun had been harsh it now healed and where there was a void and the hurt that people had given him, it began to fill - with memories and small bits of hapiness and the feeling of belonging that so many people had given him along the way...
Those friends were not perfect, those memories were not picture perfect but those times could not be captured again. A distinct memory of walking through the streets of his hometown to take up employment for the first ran through his head, how each street had smelt, how the tears had flown, how his steps had taken him unbidden through the streets to his best friend's house and he'd stood there like a stranger untill his friend opened the door and yelled - "You idiot! Do you need an invitation to come in?"
Today he picked up the phone and called every number he had for his friend, a silly misunderstanding had prevented him from calling for 3 years. He picked up on the second ring. And said - "You idiot! Do you need an invitation to come home?"
And that's where he truly began to pick up the pieces again.....
Morbidity, morosity, twisted imaginings, imagining the worst - life doesn't turn out the way you expect, you outgrow things....
This is what he believed in. Depressive isn't it? But yes, that's the way he was. Forever being the victim, forever being the martyr.
And then one day the weight of all of that despair came crashing down, each bit of self judgement and self loathing coupled with a feeling of helplessness and despair. He'd wake up each day and instead of finding the pitter patter of raindrops soothing he'd see the sky crying. Instead of the warmth of the sun he'd see the piercing bright sunlight that was baking the earth. Where coffee had tasted invigorating it was loatsome and chocolate too sweet for comfort.
Loneliness, self loathing, self pity - you name it and he wallowed in it. And the worst bit - I didn't hurt anyone, I didn't do anything wrong, I didn't make anyone's life difficult. Then why ME???
Slowly yet surely the downward spiral began. Work, cooking, writing - nothing made sense. And that's when he realised what was missing.
One day he resolved that enough was enough. One day at a time he decided he would make thins better. One day at a time he would make things alright. One day at a time.
Bit by bit he picked up each thing that was bothering him, reduced it to it's normal size and where there were boulders there were now tiny pebbles, where the sky wept it sent life and nourishment, where the sun had been harsh it now healed and where there was a void and the hurt that people had given him, it began to fill - with memories and small bits of hapiness and the feeling of belonging that so many people had given him along the way...
Those friends were not perfect, those memories were not picture perfect but those times could not be captured again. A distinct memory of walking through the streets of his hometown to take up employment for the first ran through his head, how each street had smelt, how the tears had flown, how his steps had taken him unbidden through the streets to his best friend's house and he'd stood there like a stranger untill his friend opened the door and yelled - "You idiot! Do you need an invitation to come in?"
Today he picked up the phone and called every number he had for his friend, a silly misunderstanding had prevented him from calling for 3 years. He picked up on the second ring. And said - "You idiot! Do you need an invitation to come home?"
And that's where he truly began to pick up the pieces again.....
