Tuesday, June 18, 2013

Camouflaged Depression

I'm sure we've all those days when we feel like everything that could go wrong, does. Well for me 2013 has been one of those years when everything that could go wrong does. Now I wont go into too many details I don't to sink further into depression and take out a few of you along the way. They say once you reach the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on and when you're at the bottom of your barrel there's no way but up from there. But these cliches are just that, cliches. What if you didn't go out for girl scouts and don't know how to tie a knot? What if there is quicksand at the bottom of the barrel?

We all know that complaining doesn't fix any of our problems, nor will it make us feel any better. So why do we all do it? I am notorious for complaining about life. Life and I aren't good friends anymore. I used to have someone very special in my life that picked me up when I fell into pieces. They seemed to care about me more than anyone ever had. The only advice they have for me these days is "Build." Like that one cryptic word is supposed to some how solve all my problems. Oh and "Try harder." Wow, you should be an motivational speaker.

I still blame myself for losing the relationship I once had with this person, but I know it will never be fixed. He's since moved on with his life and I have a suspicion he's back with his ex. Part of me still wants to scream, "But what about me? Don't you miss me? Don't you still want to be with ME? Come on, I'm wearing my faded jeans and my hair smells absolutely angelic!" However, once that boy makes up his mind, nuclear holocaust wouldn't change it. He claims I told him to walk away, but all I wanted to do was protect him from my absolute psychotic self. The whole thing is just chaos, a mess. I guarantee you this: If he hadn't said a certain series of four words to me, we never would have fallen apart. "You're getting too attached." Any girl on the face of the earth would be as hurt as I was. If not, they just aren't female.

But my crummy life gets crummier still, but at least I can slather a coat of dry humor over my depression. Its fairly effective for camouflage, when all the chirpy happy people come out to play. Luckily, I rarely see another human being besides my parents and occasionally Her Royal Fatness and I can be bitchy around them....sometimes. Well that's my heart wrenching story, folks. I came, I saw, I lost. And I lived grumpily ever after.

Monday, June 17, 2013

The Life of A Firefly

Have you ever felt like a firefly? Where one moment you're flying high, enjoying the cool evening breeze of late July. You're flashing and bright and totally free. The next thing you know some clammy, grubby hand has captured and deposited you in a wide-mouth mason jar.

You can see everything in the outside world through your glass cell walls, but you can never reach it. There's no way you can fly your tiny body into the walls hard enough for them to even crack. No, you're totally at the mercy of someone big nasty person. They are your only key to freedom, but no matter how hard you try, they just don't care.The lid to your prison is screwed on tight and you are slowly running out of oxygen.You have no energy. No strength. And no hope.

The only light at the end of your tunnel is a firefly glow, the echoed reflection of your once-carefree youth, and it quickly blinks out. You cower in fear at the bottom of the jar, hoping its just a dream that you'll wake up soon. But you won't. You'll never soar in the night sky again. Never fall asleep on a flower blossom again.

You're trapped to this life as some strange insect exhibit until you slowly suffocate in silence. No one cries for dead fireflies. No one will mourn you when you're gone. They will simply dump you in the grass the next morning. If no hungry predator decides to snack on your dried out carcass, you'll just decompose into someone's plush green lawn.

 This is your life. The life of a firefly.