when the going gets tough

‚ÄčI felt empty this morning as I walked out the door into a world uncertain. I have avoided this feeling for the longest time but I’m afraid it’s creeping back in.
Eight years ago, I was in a severe state of depression, and although I have come out of it after some serious inner healing sessions, I still feel fragments of the old me resurfacing like fallen debris from a major meltdown.

A friend told me that the best way to suppress a memory is to not intentionally recall it back from the grave. I have not been thinking about things and yet the clouds keep chasing me around.

I guess I feel this way when I’m trapped in one place where everyone is so shallow and everything has no depth or when October is just around the corner and I go through some existential crisis as the the autumn leaves fall to the ground and turn to colorful hues of orange and brown.

Sometimes I worry when i suddenly start withdrawing from the world, pushing people away like some sort of reflex, and going through that dark path. Will I come back to the light this time or will I stay there for good?

I wish I could be more eloquent but I have nothing left to say save that which can no longer be said. I know nothing. I only write mangled words while I build my walls and raise my bridge so that alligators can guard my moat and eat trespassers alive.

If you know what a flare looks like, this is it in written form. I hope you’ll find me before the darkness swallows me whole.