I left my apartment at 9:30 this morning and returned home at 2:30 in the afternoon. It was a long ride on a series of buses, a lot of walking, and plenty of time to dwell on the pain and the depression which had gripped my being for the last six months. Depression is nothing new to me; the dulling of the world and the melting of joy has always been a companion of mine. I can vaguely recall the times when I have been happy but those times have never felt real to me the brief bright encounter with a power which is denied me in the normal flow of life. But Ive never encountered a depression as deep and narrowing as this one. I struggle to get up in the morning. Fractured dreams warn me from sleep. I sit on my bed with a knife in my hand contemplating the unimaginable. Yesterday the only thing that stayed my hand was the sudden eruption of my alarm clock.
I sat on the bus feeling the vast separation between me and the world. There were people obviously on their last legs in dirty clothing and stinking of alcohol. There were women with their children wrapped in Sunday Best heading to one of the many churches that line Cleveland Avenue. And then there was me, straining to break through the barrier between my emotions and the music calling from my mp3 player a barrier that never existed before these last few months. I switched buses and found myself riding through campus, the place I had spent the last two years of my life. Its hard to describe how vibrantly beautiful the girls are, how they have no fear for the future or their right to be in it. Young men with an ease of movement I could never know. That familiar feeling of ugliness filled me and I could barely stop myself from screaming for an end to the constant pain. The pain of not belonging and desperately hoping to belong to something meaningful.
The purpose of the trip was to borrow a twenty from my sister. I had not eaten in four days and I could no longer ignore the weak desperation. It was one of the lowest points in a life filled with low points. I struggled to hide my fear, the constant yearning for some kind of end, from her knowing that she could see through my veneer of stability she is my sister after all.
I am not sure how long I can hold out with rent due in ten days and nothing to my name with the exception of a few degrees. It is not that I am afraid of death or the unknown, my life will end just as yours will, but I can not escape the hope that no life should end like this. I want people to remember that I was here and that I tried. I fought so hard for what I have and to see that stripped away is unbearable. The only doubt that grips me is the amount of hope I should invest in such a life. Dignity is worth something, something that is sorely missing from the life I am leading on the edge of the abyss. My only hope is that by reading this blog you will not feel the loneliness that encircles me. I want meaning just as you do. I dont want to go unnoticed. Please remember me.
I sat on the bus feeling the vast separation between me and the world. There were people obviously on their last legs in dirty clothing and stinking of alcohol. There were women with their children wrapped in Sunday Best heading to one of the many churches that line Cleveland Avenue. And then there was me, straining to break through the barrier between my emotions and the music calling from my mp3 player a barrier that never existed before these last few months. I switched buses and found myself riding through campus, the place I had spent the last two years of my life. Its hard to describe how vibrantly beautiful the girls are, how they have no fear for the future or their right to be in it. Young men with an ease of movement I could never know. That familiar feeling of ugliness filled me and I could barely stop myself from screaming for an end to the constant pain. The pain of not belonging and desperately hoping to belong to something meaningful.
The purpose of the trip was to borrow a twenty from my sister. I had not eaten in four days and I could no longer ignore the weak desperation. It was one of the lowest points in a life filled with low points. I struggled to hide my fear, the constant yearning for some kind of end, from her knowing that she could see through my veneer of stability she is my sister after all.
I am not sure how long I can hold out with rent due in ten days and nothing to my name with the exception of a few degrees. It is not that I am afraid of death or the unknown, my life will end just as yours will, but I can not escape the hope that no life should end like this. I want people to remember that I was here and that I tried. I fought so hard for what I have and to see that stripped away is unbearable. The only doubt that grips me is the amount of hope I should invest in such a life. Dignity is worth something, something that is sorely missing from the life I am leading on the edge of the abyss. My only hope is that by reading this blog you will not feel the loneliness that encircles me. I want meaning just as you do. I dont want to go unnoticed. Please remember me.