Caked in Darkness

feeling quite lonely and I know it's what I have created for myself because I find it so hard to be around most people the isolation is stinging.  i haven't gone anywhere much since returning from Vancouver and the loneliness is charged.

i'm feeling physically better so perhaps my fears aren't that justified perhaps it's cysts coming and going

the pain has certainly decreased and so it's maybe even IBS, not sexy but manageable.

depression really fucking sucks

i want everyone to know and to feel sorry for me that's certainly true and simultaneously don't want anyone to talk to me and also want to talk to someone.

but talking is only a temporary fix i want a permanent end to this fucking shit

i want an end to  the paranoia

i want to stop hurting other people with my poison i want to stop being/feeling poisonous.

i long for some peace

most of the time when I ask myself the question as serious as I can, when I contemplate it most soberly I think i want to live but I find it very hard

there is so little joy

there should be some I think, joy that is

i would like to be someone who really lives who really lives the crap out of life

Robin Williams' suicide has hit very close and I feel a little ashamed of this because he is a stranger to me and yet I know we could have conversed familiarly on the lure of death and our efforts to numb adn also to feel something other than this darkness

caked in darkness
without the sweetness

doused in darkness
there was no flame

poetry escapes me

skin as casket

over 3 months no effexor

i'm still here but i'm having additional worrisome symptoms which i did see my doc about. he thinks most likely irritable bowel, certainly that could be but there's other stuff going on so I called back. we shall see. had some blood work done, we'll see if anything shows. I noticed he's checking that gland again whose name escapes which had been checked a decades ago but was fine then. Having been doing too much.

encased in a skill of con-life.

Robin Williams is dead of suicide.

fuck

the chicken dinosaurs of depression

this vile skin that has encased me, holds me captive, relentless, panoptic, vicious, tireless eater of my soul. wants me gone, wants me dead. it's exhausting fighting this invisible opponent, exhausting fighting myself.

so very tired. feeling so bad.

nothing peaks my interest, my laughter is so sparse.

brutal, slow, tiny little bites like those little chicken dinosaurs.

people try and help and i do appreciate that they care, or at least i try to. but there doesn't seem to be any lift, any break, any amelioration.

more big words that don't quite capture the dread and despair that are my constant companions.

fuck