Here it comes. I can hear it approaching deep inside my skull. It has long, thin fingers - no, not fingers, but tentacles, turning and twisting and squeezing through to the tiniest cavities.

It starts from my stomach. It always starts from there, stirring it up, heating it until I feel the burn. From there it climbs to my throat. It strangles me ever so slightly, like to remind me that it could tighten its hold any time to make sure not a single sound escapes through anymore. When it reaches my lungs, forcing me to breath more than I need, I know I've lost the struggle that I hardly even started yet. Soon it is hammering my every muscle, making me shake violently like the fragile leaf that I am.

The world around me grows small. I'm trapped inside a small hole with hazy edges. Outside everything is dark and misty. Inside, where I'm soundlessly screaming, everything is too much: it's too bright, too many confusing colours, and loud, so very loud even though no vibrating air is reaching my eardrums. It drowns me, threatens to drag me down and imprison me in the depths forever. I feel like I have already been forever in a hell where time means nothing.

I want to vomit it out. My mouth gets filled with saliva, my stomach cramps trying to force out the evil that is disrupting its calm existence. But the cord around my throat squeezes tighter and it screams straight into my brain “NO!” That's the one thing I cannot do. It tells me that vomiting would not make me feel better but instead it would make everything worse, it would be the most horrifying thing I've ever experienced. I might think, it tells me, that this hell where I'm in is bad, but actually I'm only at the door. If I'd let the reflex through, if I even tried to purge it away, I would open the doors to a real hell where all hope is lost.

I give in and let it have its way with me. It shakes me so bad that I would fall off a chair if I wasn't on the cold floor already. I get a few tears out from between my tightly squeezed eyelids. I struggle for air even though I'm gulping huge amounts of it by panting with shaky breaths. I'm locked here for all eternity unable to think of anything else but this hell and this moment.

Finally it has grown tired of playing with me. It withdraws its disgusting tentacles that have little thorns on them that scrape me as they slither over me. It takes a while for my body to come to halt. My throat has been burned, my muscles still twitch with aftershocks, and my teeth don't dare to make a gap between my jaws yet. Ever so slowly the noise quiets down, the lights reach the outside world again, and time resumes its stroll with shaky legs. It's gone and I'm still here, painfully aware that it's never far away. It will come again.

Our fate has brought us here in time to meet.

Two travelers upon a lonely trail,

the raging river churning past our feet.

The misty air replaces summer’s heat

while turning both our faces slightly pale;

our fate has brought us here in time to meet.

Her eyes reflecting mine are kind and sweet;

She turns away, to hide from me her tale,

the raging river churning past our feet.

Some other time and place, another street…

But no! Such thoughts will pave the way to fail,

and fate has brought us here in time to meet!

Together, with no chance for a retreat,

we’re now a team, ever destined to sail

the raging river churning past our feet

Her tear streaked smile makes my soul feel complete

As hand-in-hand we climb over the rail.

Our fate has brought us here in time to meet

the raging river churning past our feet.

(c) 2017 - dustygrein

** The villanelle has often been used to capture emotional glory, but I found it apt this time to capture tragedy, an all-too real outcome of depression for some poor souls.

I am losing my will to live.

My elderly Mom is dying . . . we so LOVE each other.

Please, God, don’t let her suffer!

I am powerless.

My daughter is destroying herself and those around her . . .

She LOATHES me, thinks I am EVIL.

I am not allowed to make contact . . . and am never to know my grandchildren.

They, too, will learn to loathe me and come to see me as evil.

I have outlived two husbands.

My late husband was the casualty of addiction and personality disorder.

My ex-husband died last Christmas . . . he was the man, who had my heart.

I am losing my will to live.

There is no one left for me to love and share my life with.

Very few are looking to form a family with an ancient, overweight, woman . . .

. . . living close to poverty in the middle of the desert.

I am old.

I am lonely.

I am losing my will to live.

Smile more, they say

Attitude makes all the difference

My numb mouth stretches into a curve

Authentic as a thumbnail print

Hanging beneath two black dots

In a bright yellow circle

Drawn by a child's blunt stub of crayon

Change your outlook

Choose to be happy, they say

I gather my blessings

Counting them like shiny coins

I barely feel the weight of them

In my slow and clumsy hands

Behind my ribs hangs an old muscle

Exhausted and riddled with holes

It can hold onto nothing

Except the clots of darkness

That cling with minuscule claws

You don't need pills, you need

Sunshine and rainbows, they say

Tell me

Can a sunny attitude

Reknit broken bones?

Maybe if you practice gratitude

Your cancer will go away

I guess I'm just a grump

It must be my fault

If I keep turning my frown upside down

Will I start wanting

To wake up in the morning?

I must have chosen

To live in this glass box

Where no warmth can touch me

Get out more, they used to say

Force yourself to have some fun

Be with your loved ones

But by now

They've stopped calling

Stopped trying

Do they suspect it's terminal

Or contagious?

I perform my own autopsy

Slicing open chilled flesh

Sorting through tangles

Of black ribbons

Of meat and tendon

Trying to find the place

Where sorrow hides

If the sadness could be revived

At least it would mean I cared

That I felt something

Anything

I'm sorry

I didn't mean

To bring you down

I cant write about it. I try and try but it is the monster grabbing my ankles and pulling me back from what I want. I can't talk about it because it's always on my shoulder like Kronk's little devil telling me that no one will listen. I can't move forward because it's in my head hitting pause, replay. Pause, replay. Pause. Replay. How many times will it replay? How many times can I watch life pass me by and be stuck in a 60" screen making a face from when I was nine. I slap the mask on every day to go to school because it keeps saying...

No he's not staring. Shut up. I know I'm crazy. I'm crazy because of you. Ever thought of that? No, no you're just an inconsider- Wait, I know this scene. It's from The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy when Mandy punches Billy so hard that his nose falls off. Ha. That's my favorite. What was I saying? Get rid of you? Why would I get rid of you? We're friends aren't we? Then don't ask such dumb questions. Honestly, sometimes I think you're-

You're doing it again! Get out! Get out of my head! Why are you making me suffer? What did I do to deserve you? I didn't do anything wring. I don't hate you. I don't say bad things about your mother. I just try to ho exist and you just waltz in here changing my channels, pushing me around, playing me like your damn fiddle. Well, I'm no instrument and you're an asshole for implying it! Get out! I'll get medication. I'll go to therapy! I'll get rid of you, you here me! I'll get rid of you

Miss so-and-so, are you okay?

Yes Mrs. Turner.

Good. What's the answer to number seven?

I got B.

Very good. Now class, turn to the next page. 

Why do you always embarrass me in public? I try to be good but you're just always here... Why can't you just go away?

We live in the spectrum.

Extremes stand out.

Some act with decorum.

While others shout.

An effort made to speak

with one of us

may help you to defeat

your lack of trust.

Do you have the courage?

It's about you.

Hate - there is no shortage.

Love - starts with you. 

Anxiety is like being sucked into a massive black whole that is trying to suck everything down into it, including you. You fight to get away from it  but its winds are to strong. You back up, you try to stand, you even try to run, but the vortex is to strong. Inch by inch your getting sucked into this whole and there is no escaping it. Eventually you get tired and let go. You land at the bottom and realize thats its dark, cold, and your all alone. 

I deal with axiety and depression. I struggle to make basic decisions. I have horrible self doubt, and I never feel good enough. I'm terrified to be seen as a failure, most the time I won't even try unless I know it's a sure success. I very seldom leave my house without my husband.

One of the worst thing I hate is when you talk to someone about depression or you tell them your depressed and they think you are "just sad." It is so much more than feeling blue or down. 

Please don't ever feel bad for getting help or being on meds. I thought if I got meds than I was truly crazy. If anyone ever needs to talk I'm always good at listening.

I'm drowning. Yet I'm no where near water.

I'm falling. Yet my legs are firmly on the ground.

I'm alone. Yet surrounded by people.

My heart pounds loudly in my chest as if I've ran a marathon, my palms slick with sweat as I watch everyone around me going about normally. Can't they hear it?Can't they hear the loud thudding of my heart? Do they not feel that same suffocating need to leave the room?

Scratching the soft area above my collarbone I nod at something someone said all the while I feel as if the world was tilting. Swallowing past the lump in my throat I look past the heads that gathered before me and over to the front door.

My palms itched to escape the nonsense chatter, to crawl back into the safety of my apartment where it was dark and quiet. Where no one was waiting to judge my clothing or comment on my lack of contribution to the conversation. To where no one would ask why I keep a rubber band around my wrist or why I rarely smile.

My chest tightens as I spare a glance at the clock. Ten minutes?! I've only been at this party for ten minutes?! I can feel the walls closing in on me as the faces surrounding me blur. My chest rises and falls with the breath I'm struggling to take.

How do I breathe again? My trembling fingers glide over my wrist in search for the beige rubber band. Lowering my hands from view I tug on the elastic band and flinch as it snaps against the inside of my wrist.

The sharp pain slams into me, momentarily distracting me from the dizzying thoughts that had consumed me. Desperate to feel anything other then this suffocating fear I pull on the elastic again and again. Careful not to attract attention I continue to pull on the rubber band as the tension in my body dims a bit. My skin is red and stings but I welcome the pain like an old friend.

Over the years I've discovered the pain helped chase the anxiety away, it feeds the darkness within me and reminds me that I can feel something other than this miserable numbness. That I'm not quite dead on the inside. The pain is a reminder that I'm still fighting my demons.

A small smile tugs at the corner of my lips. Are they considered your demons when they are you're only companions? When they are the only ones who sit along side you in the dark as you cry? The only real beings that have stuck around you? The same demons that wake up with you as you face another day, another challenge.

Yet they are also the same demons that lurk in the darkest part of your mind, awaiting the moment they can creep up on you. At your most vulnerable moments they will step into the light promising relief but only delivering pain.

Closing my eyes I take a deep breath and remind myself to take this one moment at a time. One foot in front of the other and slowly reopen my eyes.

The crowd of unfamiliar faces erupt into laughter and I follow in suit hoping it didn't sound as hallow and fake as I felt.

You think it's an illness, a disease (dis ease). You are frequently uncomfortable with how you feel to the point of being a recluse to protect yourself. You do your best in social situations still fucking it all up. Self doubt consumes you. You remember and uphold wrong opinions of others when you were younger.  You can't get past it. You look in the mirror and think the opinions were true. You judge yourself. You feel less than everyone else. It gets worse. You realize through a kind person you do have qualities and great capabilities but you shove that under the carpet because it's more comfortable where you are being the oppressed victim.

You annoy your associates, children and family with your crutched life. You don't change your medication noncompliance because you've found a lazy comfortable way of life. You have some kind of a life, based on your insecurities. It's not who you were meant to be. It's you choosing the easy path. It's you not getting better and happy by your own hand.

They tell me that I'm stupid

That I'm my own worst enemy

They tell me all I need is a pill

A toxic little remedy

To numb my mind

& fill the hole

Not mentioning the fact

That it would kill my soul

I'd be dead inside

A zombie, a mime

Which they probably want

Because they don't have time

To care about this wretched mess

That they label drama queen

I'm obviously just faking it

How could i be so obscene?

They'll never get it

They'll never know

What it's like to be me

To be lost so far below

Smothered in feelings

Awash with sorrow

& knowing it will all be

The same again tomorrow

There's no escaping

Who i am

There's no pill that can change

The flow of this dam

I won't find peace

Inside of a bottle

A concoction of poisons

All a mottle

You can scream

& rant & rave

But I won't take your pills

I won't dig my grave

So here i am

All alone

& here i will be

Forever alone

Letting you rape me

& bleed me dry

All because

I cannot die

So I'll cry myself to sleep each night

& pray for God to take me

Because I can't bear another day

Of drowning in this sea

Copyright: CJ