TW: Mentions of depression
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My sadness is my resting place, like one's mind whilst in deep sleep. I've found comfort in the sorrow and late-night depression. I've found peace and calm in the once insufferable loneliness. I've come to terms with the fact I might never have my only one. I've finally learnt to live with my blue rather than terminate it with false-glee.
It's sort of like a soft pillow: fluffy and soothing, nice to lay your head on, to rest with, but just not the right feeling. Like being wrapped in a blanket, but the blanket is cold. It's uncomfortably comfortable, sometimes brain-killing and makes my whole body tingle with how stressful it is. But other times, I seem to be able to live within the beauty of it.
I used to only remember the rapid beat of my heart that seems to be all I can hear as I am heaving for air through yet another panic attack; so fretful and nerve-wracking. Though now I also see the late-night summer rain mixed with a heavy wind, the soggy grass with the smell of earth beside a clear and crisp lake. The foggy setting of tall and dark trees amidst a hidden forest, the rickety wooden cottage isolated in the middle of nowhere.
Hmm, how weird, that those feelings could have any correlation to such things like these. I'm still unsure as to how they could relate, but somehow inside me, I just feel that this sort of sadness is so beautiful, just like the saddened nature after being moistened with days of rain.
What I have to remember is that sometimes even the most hideous beast could turn out to be a prince in disguise, that sometimes the most ugly and terrible feeling could also be the most beautiful.
I no longer see my sadness as pain of the past, as fear for the future, but rather live in it right now as I'm finally at comfort, stiller than a log with makeshift tears hanging in the back of my eyes, alone yet somehow not lonely, at most peace with myself and also everyone around me.
I'm not sure if it's good or bad that I'm starting to see such a feeling that has been known as terrible and useless for the longest time as something worth taking comfort in, though what I do know is that I'm beginning to enjoy my despair, but still unbeknownst as to where it would take me later on. I'm not sure if that's a sign of depression, or 'getting bad again', or this so-called 'falling back into the darkness'. Or it could just mean I'm getting used to the pain, I don't know. I don't know anything.
But I do know how I feel, and I do know that this feeling seems so sublime, and I just want to live in it for a little while longer before I have to force myself to get better.
492 words
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I used to suppress my sadness because I feared feeling it at it's full potential, though I'm just realising I've been sad this entire time. I guess it's been so long that I'm getting used to it and somehow finding comfort in it.
YOU ARE READING
Short Stories :P
RandomBehind these books and words stand a lonely writer with an explosion of thoughts and feelings she is never able to show. Read this book to get an insight on small snippets of my life. ~Editing/checking finished~
