I want to run away.
I really do.

Just make it stop.
Please.

Depression

I think I'm now fully aware of my state of depression.
There may have been a subconscious denial of the fact,
but now I am aware; ‘enlightened’ if I want an ironic twist to the whole situation.
Knowing is half the battle, people always say.
I've been idle and melancholic for the past few days, or maybe the past few weeks.
Who can really decipher the details when you’re neck deep in tar?

I've been aimlessly living life. Not forgetting to add quotations on 'living' of course.
I’ve been waking up at noon and staring up into nothingness. Feeling the lifelessness in my limbs, gravity pulling down at every pore, the nonexistence of action, that pulsating urge to live.
I've let my body experiment with the idea of moving on instinct, out of habit possibly;
to live without the brain,
without the heart.

Lately I've found life to be lackluster, finding amusement to flash only in moments, but never seeming to last longer than that.
I've been slow, at a snails pace, to say the least. I guess that's probably because I haven't been finding much enjoyment out of doing things, even in eating.
Can you believe such an atrocious thing? The world is crashing it seems.
Anna dela Rama does not find enjoyment in eating...
The result of which is found to be in skeletal proportions.

It seems as if everything has somewhat crossed an invisible demarcation line from fun to kill the joy. Everything has become a chore.

I haven't had much to care for really. Perhaps its nonchalance?
Or maybe I'm just hollow.

Empty

...

I've often asked this to my sister lately:
do you know that feeling? That feeling that you're doing something, a lot of things even, but you feel as if you're doing nothing at all? I've been feeling like that, and I don't really know why. Or maybe I do but I refuse to acknowledge the presence of substantial reason.
My mind is inexplicably unfocused. If you were to enter my mind all would be a blur. Everything is in motion; everything is there but not fully visible. Reach out to touch and all you’ll find is sand whisking away, running from grasp, from reality.
I've been reading a lot, staring into space, trying not to cry and taking a lot of pauses.
Though admittedly, the third of the previous statement hasn't been very successful as of late.
I've been crying. Pathetic really. Admitting so makes me want to cry again.
I broke down yesterday and revealed my state. It was my mother’s birthday.


I am an Anna dela Rama
and I am depressed.

BOOKS I'VE READ SO FAR IN 2012

JANUARY
- Herland by Charlotte Perkins Gilman

FEBRUARY
- The Perks of being a Wallflower by Stephan Chbosky
- The Diving Bell and the Butterfly by Jean-Domnique Bauby

a scribbled entry...

The thing about me is that I tend to self-destruct, self-heal, self-initiate, self-induce, self-everything.
The funny thing is that nothing ever really leaves the self.
I live and breathe in me.
It starts in the self and ends in it.
I guess one might think this to be a tragedy.
To live in one's self and live there forever.
Twenty-seven cat's and all.

-

I'm about to read The Diving Bell and the Butterly, which is a memoir of a man who is 'imprisoned' in his own body. Ironic, right?
We'll see how reading such an apt-to-the-situation book will affect me.

-

Oh, and by the way, yes, it is somewhat a tragedy.

I feel empty...

wipe the fog off your glasses

I am lost,

but I guess it would be strange if I weren't.

Though just because it isn't doesn't mean we're well acquainted;

or at least I don't want us to be.

alone

Do you ever fear being alone?
Not today, but tomorrow?
And the day after that, and the day after that...

I do.
As the days grow old,
I do.

I really do.

let's converse

I wish for conversation
unguarded
unfiltered
unstoppable

I wish for conversation
honest
genuine
raw
real

I wish for conversation
free from judgment
accompanied with humor
rooted in intellect

I wish for conversation
with you,
me
and the genuine hunger for knowing.

Do you wonder?

In lost days we find for stars hoping that when you look up they're as lost as you.

Zoom out and turn the universe upside down.
Do you ever wonder if stars look up to you as you look up to them?
If they ever marked us,
followed us,
made maps of us,
maybe even wished on us?

Do you ever wonder if they too wished to touch us?
But soon loose hope of such knowing that it'll take millions of light years to get to us.

Do you ever wonder that one lone star amongst an ocean of stars feel as alone and as strange as a person in a sea of people.

Do you ever wonder?

A day plucked from everyday

Today is the second of February
and today I am thinking of the future.
It is a custom for me to marvel at the emptiness of it.
To wonder at the invisible hand ready to write the moments, the minutes, the seconds
that will come to pass.
To think ill at the thought that that hand isn't yours.
To fear at the thought if it actually was mine.

I fear the day that I will die not because of death itself, but, ironically, of life. I fear that when the day comes I cannot boast of a life well lived.
I fear the possibility that death will be better than my days accumulated.
I fear for what if's lost in idle state,
and action numbed down to lazy compromises.

Today is the second of February
and today I am thinking of the future
and today I admit to fear it.