The thing about writing, for me at least,
is that I fail to see the deeper things when
I am not depressed.
Like, for instance, the way the tree branches
may feel like they are hovering over me
ready to snatch me with them should my knees
give way, make me fall. Like the "spotters" assigned
in a game of volleyball in gym class. Or the way
hot air can eat at your lungs, even more so when
you start forgetting you have them to begin with.
When I am not depressed, I forget to pay attention
to what colour the sky is today. Depression always
made me feel like everything needed to be defined,
to be described, analyzed - written down. Sort of like
when they diagnose you with depression
itself; it has all these symptoms and characteristics.
But is there anything wrong, really, with a poet saying
"I am happy, sort of" ?
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Comments
Excellent musings.
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*DailyLitDeviations | *Critique-It | =TheContestClub | *DailyDeviants
Not For Sale: Fighting Human Slavery
The ironic thing is what I was pretty content that day. It was strange. However, I was hypersensitive to my surrounds as well.
Maybe there is something behind this 'Sight in Depression' theory that you have proposed here.
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...Plus I Have A Puppy And That Keeps Me Happy.
DaaBree/Jeff
--
...Plus I Have A Puppy And That Keeps Me Happy.
DaaBree/Jeff
--
"the body is the vehicle, bound by time.
the mind is the mechanics, bound by logic.
the soul is the part from the whole attempting to be an individual.
and the spirit is what remains of the bond shared before there was time."
I Have a Story
--
Man, if you gotta ask you'll never know.
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