We all know what black-holes are.
This celestial, dark body that has a gravitational field so strong, nothing escapes from it. not even light.
Everyone with a working knowledge of physics and Everyone who's seen Star Trek knows what I'm talking about.
There is no escaping the black-hole.
Every so often, there's this burning, all consuming, magnetic darkness that takes over me.
I am a black-hole for happiness and good cheer, for smiles and laughter, for lightness.
Nothing can please me, make me happy, crack a smile.
Instead, I suck it out of people who have it and replace it with misery and moroseness.
This strangeness I seem to carry around everywhere is a dead weight I can't shake off.
It makes me think of Florence and The Machine-> "I was In the darkness So darkness I became".
Quantum Mechanics, Theoretical Physics and someone called Edward Witten (from Princeton) recently disproved that. It seems light can escape.
For the minds, the Jungian perspective suggests there's no light without darkness. Light is important and appreciated only because of the pull the darkness exerts on us.
For me, This darkness, depression, (mood swing?) is bone deep. My head aches, my bones hurt, my heart sinks.
It makes merely existing so heavy, so tough sometimes its all I can do to not give in, give up and just walk away. Sometimes, I do just that. Walk away.
What really tears me up is the pull from opposite forces. I want to be left alone and I don't want to be left alone.
What scares me is, that I like this constant buzzing pain.
What shocks me is the lengths I might go to, just to keep this hurt.
This, pseudo depression (or is it real!?), I wonder if there's any meaning to it. My books tell me there is. This is a monster I fight for my sanity.
But I think happiness is overrated.
Are we ever, truly, fully happy? Isn't there something we're longing for that we can't have, or someone that hurt us? Isn't there some kind of loss always there, tearing a hole through your soul?
In our youth, we're anxious for the future, for the opportunities that are going to come our way. Dreams and hopes that we've nurtured with painful efforts.
Then there's a part that laments the loss of certain thing, material or otherwise, that burns a scar on you- constantly reminding you of what you DON'T have.
And forgetting all this, we still try to be happy. And we are, yes. When life is more pleasant than bothersome.
And even when we think we are happy, aren't we mourning, or coveting or simply sighing over something/someone lost, that got away from us and is buried in some recess of our ever-loving, and somewhat unraveling minds?
I sometimes think of J.K Rowling in these, phases (for want of a better word. I refuse to call it depression). I know! (huh) I relate this enveloping, soul crushing,cold-cold sadness to the effect dementors have, and I quote Lupin, "Horrible, spectral creatures, hooded and robed, which feed on human emotions. Dementors drain ‘peace, hope, and happiness' out of the air around them." There's no rhyme or reason to it, it just flows out of you.
Chocolate does make it a little better, but it doesn't really go away.
I wish I could Expecto Patronum this monster to hell but, what do I know, I'm just a muggle!
This is the undoing of my self.
This is the end of the rope.
Its like Emily Dickinson said, This is the hour of lead.
"This is the hour of lead-
Remembered, if outlived,
As freezing persons
recollect the snow,
First Chill, then Stupor-
then the letting go."
