I am tired of all things at once. I go to work and then I return home, only to return again, over and over. It is difficult to see the sense in any of it. I watch others who seem to be so carefree and unencumbered, and I wonder... How?
There is an ever-returning sadness, a heaviness from which there seems no end. The only way I know to fight it is to endure it, to close ever methodically in upon myself.
This confuses those around me. I send mixed messages. My frustration is visible but unreachable, the untouchable melancholy and distance; the darkness of spirit, and a receding of the eyes. Those close to me are perhaps accustomed to, and greatly prefer, a different version of me. They appeal, as if it is somehow a choice I've made, a simple switch I can flip and all will right itself.
I have been through it many, many times. I don't know how to express that this is not the dangerous part. It is the other times. When I am wildly unpredictable, funny, engaging and seemingly alive, that those are the times to beware of. Those are the times when sudden decisions are made suddenly, decisively.
This unceasing heaviness will one day yield, to what... I do not pretend to know.
I hope to openness.