Guilt

I feel so heavy. I feel weighted down by my ever present demons. It's like I am constantly being pulled closer to the event horizon of a black hole inside me. The black hole of my past, and it seems to gain mass with every incessant mistake, pulling me closer and closer into oblivion. I can't remember a time before the guilt. It must have been nice, I must have been free. Guilt has a way of shackling the feet. It enslaves your heart, constricts your lungs, choking the life from you. Guilt is a much different feeling then sadness. I feel sick, absolutely disgusted with myself and my actions. It's a feeling deep in the pit of your stomach, in the depths of the bowels. It never leaves. Its always there, always ready to remind you how truly pathetic you are. Whenever you are starting to feel more confident it slams you back on the ground. It is a terrible thing, something I fear will never leave me. But that seems to be the path I've started down upon, the path that has chosen me. Perhaps someday the chains of my guilt will finally be broken. Maybe one day I can be free...

...sinking deeper into the void.

Melancholy

Depression. I've heard that word so many times. It's been used so many different ways. I don't think it's quite fitting in many cases. Maybe it's just semantics, but I feel depression is a chemical imbalance causing severe sadness, while what most people feel is...

melancholy.

Melancholy is such a fitting term for how doctors describe depression. Listlessness, sadness at times, but mostly just... numbness. Lack of feeling but not lack of sensing. One can live their entire life melancholic, I know I have. It kind of feels like a dream, not necessarily a pleasant dream, but not unpleasant. Not sad, not happy. Not suicidal, yet no vigor for life. The truth is...melancholy, sadness, depression...they are easy. They are easy to slip into, just as one slips into the bed sheets at night. It's warm. Comforting. Familiar. Safe. The habit of melancholy is hard to break. I don't know if I even want to. I've developed into the person I am because of it. For better or for worse, it has irrevocably shaped who I am today. Perhaps not all for the bad, for melancholy lends itself to deep thought, I find introspection a common part of my life. I think it allows for a deep appreciation for beauty, a slower pace to life. And in a strange way, a relief of stress, a calmness of the heart...

...sinking deeper into the void.

Innocence

I lost something so fundamental to myself.

Where did it go...?

When did it happen...?

How did it happen...?

And yet, in losing that ephemeral quality I became what I am today. The real me-the person that wants to shine as brightly as the sun, that is begging to cleanse me and bring back simplicity and purity-is so far buried underneath the sludge and filth I've heaped upon him he may never escape.

My search for beauty is simply my search for innocence. In beauty we find the root of ourselves, the qualities we have lost. We are all born beautiful, and correspondingly innocent. But we lose it somehow, we become dull, selfish, jaded and angry. We become ugly. So I search on for that wispy feeling, that oh so fleeting remembrance of innocence, of true purity and beauty...

...sinking deeper into the void.