Some days you just rain inside.

Some days you can't feel fun.
No matter how funny something is, no matter how much you can remember that is was, you can't feel fun.
These days you are numb to mostly anything, wandering around the house like a zombie attacking the fridge for nibbles and floating to life wishing to wish to feel.
You can't even lie to yourself long enough to pretend you wanted to feel, you can't even start searching for why you don't. What you are blocking outside your skin.
Some days you can feel the building of pain across your chest, crushing it out of air... and you know that if you could only let a tear drop.
If only you could feel the tiniest connection to this world, the pull of its gravity to uncertain fall, the iciness of the wind's breath, the burning heat of the beaming sun, the cut of your feet soles walking heavily through the shattered glass of your existence.
If only you could release some of this rage, of this suffering, of this transparency, of this unexistency. of this meaningless thought... you could just breathe.
And like awaken from a drowning experience your lungs would spit the sharp cold water out cutting their way through your throat and frizzing air would rage in descending with fierce and brutality to the core of your being and you could be ripped from undeath with such violence you wouldn't stop leaking until the last drop of water in you had converted to blood or tear.
But it isn't easy to find this razor of souls, it isn't easy to want to feel, not when you know that so much devastation awaits on the other side of this thick glass.
And then a bird lifts off, you watch its wings beating gently in the breeze, not knowing what let your guard down or whether you wanted this little  ray of sunshine to pierce but it is done. You are shattered into a million pieces and the healing begins. It will hurt so much more before it gets better, but you can feel and that shows you are alive and therefore capable of finding again that brief ray of sunshine, that slick moment of pure beauty that creeps at the corner of your eye all the time.

Friend don't despair

I have been fighting for the words to say, anything that could push you the right way.
And I am disappointed to say I didn't get that far anyway.
Here goes:
This sucks! - This isn't fair, nor reasonable and you have the right to hate everything!... now.
Life's a devious bitch! - When you get a little air to breath it punches you right in the nuts and knocks you down!
Love hurts! - Love is as hurtful as leaving is deadly! We weren't build to be treated this way, our fragile existence is torn to pieces with the wimps of this treacherous adventure!

Please, please... don't forget how much yesterday felt worth it all. Sit on your fingers for a while, gorge on chocolates and as many endulgements you can get your hands on... but remember life will still be here waiting for you. You have many people on your corner, I know you can count on me, when you decide to fight back. Remember, for every present there was a past and there will be a future, and the laws of physics dictate that better days will come.

How little can you do?

What do you do, when a close friend loses his light?
When the person that daily greats you with a smile,
before which the sun refuses to rise,
loses his life long love in a swipe?

What can you do for some one who lost so much so fast?
It would be heartless to ask him to remember the rest,
the family that stands with him in the pain of this day.
It would be cold to make him feel that he should feel lucky.
Telling someone they are lucky to have had such nice dads,
or to have had great friends is honestly the greatest way to look at life.
But your love, the one person that warms your bed if only with rage,
the one person that knows your insides and not only metaphorically,
the one person that molded you as you grew together into the people you couldn't have been apart,
the one person in the world that compensates and completes you in way that is no longer dependable but an arm and a leg and half a brain and all your heart.
You can't ask them to feel lucky to have had that!
No one feels lucky to have had it!
No gandi, jesus or buda could feel anything but betrayed by death and cheated by life.
No reason or higher purpose is there to cut someone in half this way.
To reap the beating heart from its chest without a warning and then ask him to leave on.
It is not a part of you that dies. People survive, he will get up and learn to walk again, strong as he is and above all altruistic as he is, because others need him to.
But he died and was revived for the sake of others.
No one can diminish that, no one can take away the size of the pain that he must feel, that he needs to feel because he owns that much to her. Because he owns his leaving, his children, his whole being to her. Because he owns her more tears than his eyes could ever muster. Because not feeling so would robe him of the so much she meant to him, the love she gave for so long in all its human forms.
Because to rob him of her nagging, of her shouting, of her complaint, of her requests, of her expectations, of her thoughts, of her reasoning, of her smile, of her warmth, of her life is inhuman and to ask him now to recognize that she was so much more than anyone could ever ask for is even more so.
No amount of love we all as friends could send his way could hold him to earth and catch him from this fall. I just hope in time we can help him collect all of his pieces and get back a fraction of who he has been.
But what do you say to someone at this moment?
What do you do?
 You quietly cry wishing there was something you could do.
And thank heaven that he is strong and will come out on the other side, just enough for us to grab and help carry the rest of the road.

The best way to go, just a thought

This night I dreamed of the best way to go!
It was not a depressive thought, or a cry for help.
Dreams are often a simulation of a hard situation,
when they aren't senseless fragments of memory processing,
to prepare your reasoning for "in case", or yet another case.

I dreamed I was homicidal and that I realized it.
In realizing it I dreamed I should end it.
You know, to save those closest to me!
 Amazing that in a reality you control
when you're given a horrible conundrum
you can still twisted making yourself the hero.

So I found that the most important is
the audience and hence the stage.
You don't want to be found by your loved ones.
You want them to be told and prepared.

You don't want to be seen by children.
You don't want it to make a mess.

You could jump of a bridge,
a classic if somewhat dramatic option.
But when and how would they get closure?

I have no exuberant expectations of leaving hearts broken,
but I have some trust in the addictiness of human heart in pain,
why else would I dream of ending?

I don't expect nothing else from those few loved ones.
Those I find everyday when I wake and when I go to sleep,
and those I remember fondly then and again.

So I am left with one dirty but simple solution,
poisoning myself in the bathroom of a hospital.

How anticlimactic, indeed!
But raw, and effective and clean and painless.

I apologize to medical staff that endure the worst
for the best of our society,
but they would endure it eventually,
might as well save them the trip
and with it save the others the pain.

Just don't forget to leave behind an apology:
You nameless angels of the hurt
will silently save the world from its own.
I'll ask you for one more.
To who I love the most, I did it for you.

Story of a grown child

Once upon a time,
a child looked to the sky.
She saw birds and clouds
and the infinite pool of light.

She asked why would it be
why should it have to be
as complicated as it seemed
for all those working bees?

She said no, not me!
That will never be!
I shall remain free!

And she worked to be free,
from all those must bes
choosing her own priorities.

Unknown depression

I don't know what is wrong with me,
and yet something definitely is.
I can't tell or point at the source,
I can't face or digest the consequence.

I can't understand the weight at my feet,
or the pain behind my smile.
I know not where the bursting originates,
or the angst and constant build up.

I know I would be crazy without you,
I know I would be nothing without him,
I know I am lost within us.

I fear the passage of time
and the continuity of it all.
I fear fear caused in his tiny eyes.