Yeah, depression, sort of. Sorry. Ehh, at least I'm managing to get somewhat-online, which is a wonderful change. *shrugs*

Ryan's... he's really not feeling good, and it keeps getting worse. He's afraid (and so am I, honestly, perhaps even more than he is) that there's something serious wrong, and if he doesn't get some form of health insurance soon... yeah. Stress and fear.

...to the middle of my frustrated fears...

I wish I knew what it was about my mind that functions so much smoother with the addition of music. It's as if everything that's been tangled and trapping my thoughts, all the vague half-heard concepts in my head, they all turn into silk and silence and clear, simple words once the rhythm pulses in.

Tomorrow I'm going to have a rather long conversation with Kadin, planned for and scheduled and everything, and GODS but I'm looking forward to it. Tonight likely I'll get to talk to Caleb, and hopefully will be able to have an actual decent-length talk. At some point Ryan will be home and I'll hold him and hope he's ok. I hate to say it because I know it's going to seem rude, but right now there isn't a single other person who realistically COULD be here right now that I want here. I want it quiet except for the music. I want it simple, I want to feel for at least tonight that I'm still in some sort of control, not spiralling back down. That's what I dread most, you know. I'm terrified that since it happened once...

...ehh.

I need to call Deb. I need to call the neurologist. I need to call Candice. I need to call my folks. I hate the telephone. I need to pay the ambulance bill. I need to pay the clinic bill. I need to pay the hospital bills. I need to help out with rent. I need to get a job. I need to be able to feel as if I'm actually even CLOSE to functional without the addition of enough drugs to make most people unconscious for a week.

I need. Greed. Hope. Hard to tell if I'm asking too much, but it always, ALWAYS, feels as if I am.

...the last thing that breaks is your faith...

I'm hoping that somehow I can get in to see a psychologist/psychiatrist of some sort soon. See, although I can look back and say yes it was stupid, although I now know a large chunk of the medical reason for my depression, although it all seems clear, there are moments when it's not. They scare me senseless and dammit, it's hard enough already to function. I don't need this too, and I've got to do something about it. It's rather tricky, living after trying to kill yourself. It's one thing to be talked down, or to have flirted with it, blades against skin where they won't really kill or intricate plans that you never act on. Even if you come close, close enough that you can literally say someone saved your life by simply stopping you in one way or another... even then, there's not so much aftermath. Not like this.

Not days when you feel as if the whole world knows how stupid you were.

Not moments when you find yourself thinking back and saying under your breath "If I'd just done this differently, maybe it would have worked..." or times when you stare into the darkness, unable to sleep, wishing with all your heart that...

...gods. Seven at night and I'm watching text appear on a screen, proving myself to be even more of an idiot than I'd believed possible.

There's a song by Counting Crows called 'Miller's Angels' that I wish I could play for everyone reading this. It feels the way it felt to wake up today. It feels the way it felt to be curled up in blankets, shivering, thinking back over 24 years of 'what if'.

I remember sitting in Scott's mom's apartment on the coast, listening to Wallflowers and Counting Crows and wondering why I could see my whole life in a curl of smoke and the taste of salt in the air. When I was little I used to dream that I'd live in a hospital by the time I was old enough to leave, that I'd never really be free. I beat Forrest once, once, up in the attic, my entire body pulsing and some part of me realizing that it wasn't even him I was seeing, it was a shadow of a shadow of a boy I think I never really knew.

So why this? Why the rambling trip down memory lane, hands in my pockets and all my fears spreading out behind me on butterfly wings? Why? Because I still have nowhere else to put this. I still - and gods, I pray this is just depression talking, that I'll be wrong when I cheer up - have no ear to pour this into. No one person. No dark eyes and smooth skin and the promises of a thousand lifetimes I didn't really know echoing in the back of my mind.

...I don't go out much any more... sometimes I stay inside all day... leave me, leave me, leave me, leave me alone...

Miller's Angels. Funny, that everything can still feel like this. For a while I'd thought maybe such a drastic thing would be a catalyst, something to shock me awake.

I guess I'm still dreaming.

I thought a man brought to life
he was warm, he came around like he was dignified
he showed me what it was to cry...
...there's nothing where
he used to lie
conversation has run dry
that's what's going on
nothing's fine
I'm torn
I'm all out of faith
this is what I feel...
...I'm wide awake and I can see the perfect sky is torn...

Tomorrow I talk to the doctor. I know I'll keep going - one failure, or one too-close, or one regret, or one mistake, or one foolish action, whatever you want to call it, once is enough, I hope. It doesn't mean that some nights I won't still cry myself to sleep or stay awake, watching fragments of what I used to be flickering out of existance.

...nothing's right, I'm torn...

I'm sorry. When I first started up the computer I hadn't intended to do this kind of rant, I'd actually kind of figured to Photoshop for a while and maybe play MOO2 or something. This just kind of exploded. If you're still reading, thank you; somehow, believing that someone will see this, even if they don't understand or don't care or whatever, somehow it helps. Confession, I guess. Thank the gods for love, though. I rather suspect that if I didn't have love, friends and lovers and partners, if that wasn't there...

...ehh, who am I kidding? If it wasn't for that, I would have been dead long before I even left the coast. Have I said thank you enough, m'Lady?

Heh.

'Eurotrash Girl' and happy memories and I'm going to dream tonight of kissing in the Clinton Street Theater and walking on the beach and coffee at Sharis and first meetings... so very many first meetings.

That's another reason I'm still here, you know. Some days I feel like I'm meeting everyone for the first time, and considering how good it was to meet them before... yeah. My whole life ahead of me, as they say.

...yeah, I'll search the world over for my angel in black... yeah, I'll search the world over for a Eurotrash girl...

Funny how I never thought to look in a mirror. *grins, padding off*