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Me Reasoning With Life
I don't really believe in a higher being but I like to talk as if there is one. It helps me cope with things that happens to me. Blaming it on that being and asking what the purpose is.. And by asking why this being makes my life hard, I can kind of rationalize the things that happen and give them a purpose.. A reason.. Not just that I'm being punished or something. But that I must learn from it. Or others must learn from it happening to me. Just as when some one you know does something, it affects you. And you learn from it. We are tormented so that others may learn from it. And it may not be a higher being at all. But thinking that there is.. And shaking my fist at it, really keeps me sane..
Depression Is A Journey
and where do we go today?
we go to a dark place.
we go to a solitude that we feel we deserve.
we go to a hell that not even we can justify.
we go to a self inflicting torment that ignorance only worsens.
we go to a threatening life style that nothing will save us from.
we go to a dispute that makes it all look like its your fault.
we go to a denial that any love is true.
we go to a last place position because moving seems pointless.
we go to a spiral staircase that goes nowhere.
we go to a day with useless attempts to ignore it all.
we go to a journey that proves to be yet another mistake.
we go to a frail body that is too worn to think.
we go to a life that is not under our control because it is chemical and only medication can regulate it because its purely medical and not psychological, although psychological trauma triggers it. A life that means everyone thinks you crazy because you have to be medicated. A life where no one can or will understand. A life with worry that you will ne
All Here For A ReasonI turned onto a shady, well-manicured driveway that, for all intents and purposes, looked harmless enough. Maple trees lined both sides of the street, and a parade of Canadian geese marched across the road to a wide duck pond with a flamboyant fountain. There were blooming crepe myrtles and rose-of-sharons, and as I grew closer to my destination, neatly trimmed gardens with neatly trimmed bushes.
I stopped to let the geese pass. They looked at me; one hissed. I honked my horn and moved around them.
At the end of the road sat a collection of grayish buildings and a number of signs directing me to the appropriate parking lot. "Welcome to Ten Creeks Hospital," said one of them. "Please enjoy your stay." I parked in the visitor's lot. Surely I wouldn't be staying.
I was shaking when I got out of my car. I had spent the morning getting high. One foot in front of the other, flip-flop noises, hot sidewalk. Mulberry and magnolia trees, freshly shaved grass. A bench and pan for smokers. A set o
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