Dusting Myself Off And Crawling On...

I am just now stepping out of a dark room;

a room filled with the paraphenilia of self torture,

a room I fall into by accident,
through trap doors that are hidden all over the world and beyond,
a room somewhere behind my blue eyes.

In a less dramatic vein, this could mean a lot of things. As usual, I am reluctant, in my heart of hearts, to declare any one answer correct.

1) I am going through a seasonal depression?
2) I went off a serotonin uptake drug and the delicate balance of chemicals in my gray matter went hay-wire
3) I am not one of those people who has a thick skin at all and indeed think such a skin would destroy what I think of as a poetic sesibility... and I flipped out when my beloved Mr Yeats, the tiger kitty, died in my arms.
4) I overtaxed my pleasure centers with valium and just had little juice left when I came back.... especially since I am so sick of taking valium that I am just going to take more pain, rather than go through the bullshit that happens to me whenever I start taking those pills... I consider myself someone who knows how to use drugs, but more importantly, I am someone who stays away from really destructive drugs. Like herion or acid or speed or coke. I was a kid once, but other than that, my attitude toward drugs has had to as cautious as my attitude toward drink. I had to give up drinking. I am just not as amoral as the drunken me, and his behavior embarrasses and complicates the lives of the rest of us up here in this head.

When this person in my head is confident, I am one person. When he is stricken and abhorred, another. Or so I experience myself. Generally. Occasionally something comes along that genuinely puzzles me about myself.

Suicidal ideations are one of them. I do not wish to die, really. I don't fear death, for whatever reason, but I do not wish it on myself. Mostly because of how other people would be effected by such a death, but of course also because my little fire behind the eyes would be snuffed out and I don't believe there is anything more than that.

I remember myself once telling an atheist, when I was not, that I did not know how he could keep living in this life if he believed there was nothing afterwards? I was going through a strong bout of using religion to get my life together and provide some reason for crawling on.
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don't steal my shit.... no use what-so-ever of this material is lawful, unless you have my permission.... don't make me come smack the shit out of you.