CRUSHED VENEER°

Generally, I'm believed to be that guy who walks around bearing a smile on his face, seemingly happy about everything every little thing on the planet. I'm the last person on the planet anyone would think suffers from Depression, especially of  the severe form , but I do. Imagine this; I may have a fantastic day and then something sets me off in a way I can't control, I go down in a spiral of self hate despite the fact that the day went well.

Sometimes I look into the mirror and ask myself “how could this have happened to me?” we are much too young to deal with most of our problems, unfortunately they push themselves on us until we are forced to make a solution; No matter how drastic they seem.

The last few years have changed so much. I’ve been subject to pain, depression, sadness and every form of agony that a human mind can experience. Life happens to all of us quite alright, but for some people it’s never the way we want it. A wrong turn here and there and you’re stuck in the labyrinth of melancholy forever. And when the anguish surpasses the breaking point, there’s no turning back. You’re stuck with misery forever.

If you’ve ever felt the sense of grief as deeply as I have, you might agree that the aftermath leads to such consequences as:

It gets compulsive. After a point sadness is a sort of habit. You can’t really function without the empty ache somewhere inside you. Somehow, after you’ve been exposed to such an intense feeling of grief for so long it feels natural to exist with a tinge of lingering sadness. And it’s not like you don’t laugh or joke around, life is pretty normal except that there’s a customary sorrow that just won’t go away.

When you've suffered abrupt depression, everything seems a bit poetic. Yes, that’s one of the cool things. Being sad adds a touch of poetry to your life. It gets perfect when you’re in the car with the earphones on and a sad song plays and you stare out of the window feeling like a tragedy magnet. But in fact, being sad is not poetic at all because in the end it only makes you feel like shit. It’s like performing in an empty theatre with no audience to watch you.

You become kinder. A person who has seen pain and sadness up so close can understand other people better. Most of the people so easily forget that others are human. But one only understands grief when you’ve felt it physically. That’s why I believe distress makes a person more humane. Sad people are kinder, more compassionate and forgiving. They care about other people’s feelings because they know how it feels when no one cares about theirs.

You become introspective. When you’ve spent so long wishing for happiness, you do tend to think more deeply about what makes you happy. And then you just think more deeply about everything. You also tend to overthink your decisions because you’re scared you’ll go wrong. You can’t afford another mistake and yet another regret.

You appreciate more. You appreciate the small things in life and see beauty where others don’t see anything. Most people just enjoy the music but a sad person understands the lyrics. For us, a rainy day and a good book or Music are as close as we can get to Happiness.

You become a creative person. It is the last but not the least thing that happens to you when you’re a gloomy person. In fact, it is the only actually good part. All these years of misery that you have stacked away in your heart flows out through your creative abilities. Most of the time people don’t even realize it. You’re just writing or painting or singing or whatever to let it all out and eventually when you look back you created a masterpiece!

I wrote this article six months back, i just didn't want to publish it, i think its long due. In the next article I'll talk about the past few months exclusively. Its been a rollercoaster of emotions actually. I guess, in the end we’re all a little sad. Some scars don’t fade away because they are the evidences of life, of the physical truth that we all Lived. (Thanks )

We Remain (XVII .I. MMXIV)**

  The first time I met you, we smiled, you led me into the house applauding how different i looked in person compared to photos. we sat in the confines of your living room; conversations over glasses of 'Chateau Petrus wine' turned into laughter over dinner at that delicious little soba spot in SoHo. I felt as alive and warm as the buzzing recess of that restaurant. you just seemed like the average, all too simple type and Somehow, I knew you were going to be a ton of fun.

You suggested we head out and drive around town, unaware how terrible I was at directions. I braved my navigational incompetence and helped us navigate, convinced I made the right choice. , we drove all around town, buying, drifting and laughing as we made life out of all our moments. when darkness fell i knew that for sure; my navigational incompetence was gonna pose a problem but nonetheless we made it all the way home.

You dropped me home and said goodnight.

The day after, you surprised me with a free spa treatment. I remember fidgeting in anticipation of the first haircut i was gonna get in years, let alone alongside you. And when you sat for the haircut, and you asked me to sit and get a haircut, a goofy smile dominated my face to which I turned back around and sat down to get the pampered treatment i so deserved and desired. I knew you were going to be unpredictable in the best way.

The first time you visited my neighborhood, I showed you my choice confectionery,since i knew very well that you still had your sweet tooth, you smiled and asked that we get something to eat but i declined cos we had a long evening ahead, didn't wanna get all nauseous from eating and driving. I was feeling playful and started pointing at all the places i loved to visit, then half-jokingly you asked me to tell you all about them, I smiled and i knew we were gonna have ourselves a time around all these places..You were someone of unapologetic self-awareness, an infectious hunger for knowledge who constantly questioned others’ apathy. I was a nomadic spirit constantly leaping before I looked, who threw most caution to the winds that carried my whims.

You brought me outside of myself.

We never really even drank much on our meetings—it was actually refreshing how liquid courage was unnecessary to get to know you. You sent me silly Whatsapps of your room and made me laugh and reflect; I listened to your musings on the weather and the way people drove around us, firing off questions in attempts to understand the way your mind worked.

We spent hours together exploring, drinking wine everywhere (driving around, getting clothes , on the couch watching Dstv), smoking weed, playing games or simply lazing in the sunshine on your patio balcony and sipping wine with cake, while spying on your neighbors down below with the overachiever garden. You knew your way around the stove but you didn't love to cook; you tried making some food for us to eat, which in turn turned to buying burgers from a fast-food shop and i laughed and ate to be nice.

It was a gorgeous, endless winter.

The distance between Africa and America became too far but not close enough.

Backwards to five days before. The last Saturday, where I stormed out because i felt angry not because of the way i felt but from the anxiety in my mind. I struggled to say bye partially because of the looming sadness I left knowing it may be the last.

I poured my fears out to you. In that moment, we were just two people equally together and alone. In that moment, I wanted to go back in time to the person you were and talk to you, tell you things would be okay. But I know you already know that they will be.

And then we realized, is this as far as we can go?

These are words of preservation, honoring a world in which you and I lived these days, sprinkled with silly jokes and weird animal nicknames. And I just wanted you to read them and know what they meant to me. I’m smiling because I will never view this city in the same way.
This is an I miss you, a thank you for being everything you are. For meeting me on that warm January day, for asking permission to lie with my name, for challenging my thoughts and giving me wings in a city that can be so harsh and frigid and wretched yet so maddeningly beautiful at the same time. For finding the courage to be vulnerable with me, even if it was only for a moment and the most you could find within yourself to give. And to let you know that I understand.

Like you said, maybe this isn’t goodbye, but the start of a fresh page for both of us.

Burning**

  I was sitting on the beige couch in the living room. The TV’s playing Modern Family reruns on mute. My heart beats in my chest like it’s trying to escape. I wish I could run away, myself. Disappear off the face of the earth. The dreadful conversation starts something like this:

Look, For once can't you just be merry.

I don’t understand. What do you mean?

I mean, no talk about how I give you joy and whatnot .

Just be yourself.

I was totally lost and caught off-guard, i never saw that coming, ever! That was most disturbing ... We fail to remember that Nobody’s perfect. Depression is a shape-shifting, ever-present monster. It is a monster that many battle; some slay the beast, others are swallowed whole, sacrificing life and limb to its gaping jaws, but most are stuck in an eternal stalemate, neither winning nor losing. I think I fall in this category; I've struggled with depression for years on end, often I feel like I've finally won the battle but I always face the harsh reality that I may live this way through my Life.

 My depression took the form of  a dense gray fog, obscuring all of my senses and causing me to heave and choke, unable to catch my breath. It was a python as thick as a tree, squeezing the life out of me, tightening with every move I made. It was a cancer in every one of my cells; a dull ache that couldn’t be numbed. It was every one of my worst fears realized, ready to pounce as soon as I woke every morning from  night after night of restless, soul consuming insomnia paradoxically paired with bone-deep exhaustion. It wasn’t poetic, it was dirty and lonely ,terrifying and full of tears no one could hear. It was the knowledge that the monster couldn’t get to me, that the pain would stop if I just died. But despite all of my imagery, it was not poetic. It was not lyrical. It wasn’t a heroic effort to maintain a grip on reality or sanity. It was a quest to conquer the monster and stay alive. 

I was prescribed anti-depressant after anti-depressant, each one worse than the last. They obliterated any ability to feel anything, leaving a black void that let the suicidal thoughts come screaming to the forefront of my mind, without anything to distract me. I swallowed five sleeping pills, and woke up the next morning not knowing whether to be relieved or disappointed. I was taken off the drugs after.

By far the worst part of depression wass the response from people without depression. I wanted to scream at everyone who told me to “just smile” or “try talking to someone.” Everyone was always trying to fix me. I didn’t need  fixing. I needed someone who cared enough to hold me until I could breathe. I needed someone to talk to and trust me to be able to fight this monster. Im well aware this monster may be bigger and stronger and smarter than me, but keeping it at bay is possible. I'm sure I'll live through this though** 

                             Thanks for Reading…