Attacks

It's happening again, isn't it? The dread and darkness of shorter days, the cold and chill that comes with the gradual changing of the seasons. It's coming, isn't it? Depression, it's coming again, isn't it? 

How, I don't know. I only know that since my return from Vancouver after spending a month there, I've not felt the same. I'm tired, constantly tired, and I'm so terribly lonely, at work and at home, wherever I go really. Everything is so mundane, so pointless. Eating, sleeping, waking up, socialising. Everything so meaningless I'd rather be dead. And all the while, in my loneliness, in my isolation and in the silence of my head, I see mum, I see dad. They're dead.

Dead already. Dead!

Yet my mind keeps them alive.

My dreams keep them alive.

Even though I do not conscious think of them, even though I try to banish all thoughts of the past, they come back.

They're dead, but they come back and bring me tears and further isolation from a world so obsessed with joy and happiness.  

And that's a scary thought. 

The thought that loneliness can kill you. 

The thought that longing and missing someone, and having your heart broken can break you to the point where you lose sight of all purpose, all meaning, all will to live and to strive and to dream.

That's  a scary thought.

I just want to hide. To shy away and disappear. Just want to hurdle together and hide so that I don't have to face a world of judgment, of expectations, a world where being honest and being myself is being a fool (and where dishonesty, bigotry and gossiping behind other people's back is a source of entertainment and joy...)

There are scary thoughts I'm entertaining. I cannot bear to stay here much longer.