das confissões do eu

bloody hell ----------------------------- it hits me once in a while. depression. still here.

i cannot remember how it is not to feel this way.  the pool has gotten bigger and deeper every day, and i’ve been drowning for years.

maybe i figured i would have let go completely by now, but things don’t really work that way, do they? all the cruel facts don’t seem to be camping in the very middle of my forehead anymore, they have moved to darker, hidden corners of my brain. even so, there is always something pulling me downwards.

i still think of my life as the eternal replay of casimir pulaski day. me crying in the bathroom, the cardinal hitting the window, a winter shade – someone taking, taking, and taking. all the glory of it.

it’s such a shame.