Tag Archives: depression

The End of the Hallway

It’s amazing how long that hallway is. A long hall papered with bad dreams. It takes a long time to go down it, before I am confronted with that door, waiting at the end. And how frightening to know what is on the other side of that door: is it the light we sought? The darkness, and eternal fire that we’ve been warned of? Or is it another hallway, a long and tedious walk, with those same dreams haunting me?

When I last met that door, I stood in front of it for several days. It’s like it was calling me to experience it. The few times I touched the knob, it was painfully cold. But something inside called anyway, “open it”. But I didn’t.

Certainly, what stopped me was the fear that it was another hallway, that hell doesn’t end here. Because even the darkness seemed to be a good alternative to this dream world.

Other friends have shared that hall. Sometimes, we walked down it, together, so that one of us could pull the other back, away from the door. Late nights sitting beside him, telling him “no.” “Stay.” “It’s okay.” We had a phone tree, we did shifts, we made calls, we held hands. But those were the ones who chose to ask. Those were the ones who were able to ask.

For them, this life seemed something to save, not simply to end. People always discuss whether this is an act of bravery, or of cowardice. But it is neither, because it is an inevitability. It is a force stronger than our own will. And when it is time, the intervention must come from outside, because inside there is only emptiness.

To sleep, perchance to dream. And in that sleep of death, what dreams may end? If those prayers are answered, all of those dreams will end.

An Ode to My Other Companion

You, bitter trinity, long I have wed.
Our courtship started early in my years.
Your whispers, claiming you are truth, have led
Me to make you the author of my tears.

Dear Darkness, Sadness, Worry, as one you carve
The mortise to my tenon, joining me
Into your lifelong, seamless structure, fast.
That we are joined, not one, is hard to see,
With subtle signs that only few observe.
The love around us, silently, you starve,
Ensuring my fidelity will last.

Cruel Darkness, you faithless, possessive love,
Abandoning your consort to the light,
Then, jealously, you count the cost thereof,
To take your ounce of flesh in bitter spite.

You, alone, can change the world. Your power,
To refine the greatest brightness into dross.
The shining hills, the taste of apricot,
The lilting song, the lace of morning frost,
The magic kiss of love, the dew crowned flower,
the Sun Itself of marvelous strength, all cower.
With murky veil, you dim the shining lot.

Cold Worry, how your countenance comes forth,
Appearing with the first shade of a doubt.
Your vap’rous chill, descended from the north,
Instills penetrating fear throughout.

The future, only mist, you make a ghost,
That haunts tomorrow’s doorway with a dread,
And tells me, “through this threshold is despair.”
You, thief of night who chains me to my bed,
Do tear the gentle respite from its host.
To sleep, I sign a contract made for Faust,
With this aching soul, the bargain seems quite fair.

Sadness, you strum the lyre inside my breast.
The pitch is harsh, with dissonant refrain.
The clamorous noise, an overstayed guest,
That sings to me my failures, losses, pain.

You steal the day, and take me to a place
Regret becomes the main fare of this blight,
Seasoned through with bitter herbs of grief.
Your artist’s hand sculpts darkest moments bright,
Mistakes and wrongs once just a feeble trace,
Now chiseled deep into my fragile grace.
I never can make those trespasses right.

And so, great Trinity, you part of me,
Our intimacy is my greatest shame.
Though I cannot imagine being free,
The emptiness in me Is not your blame.

As with others of your wretched kind,
You dance eccentric waltzes with my heart.
I lately tasted of your apogee,
With your retreat to cold and distant parts.
Days of warming hope, redefined,
Stitched with fragile threads into my mind.
But then, you bound me with your gravity.