c.i.r.c.l.e.s

Her: Try again.. try to sleep.
The other person: I cant.
Her: Try. At least your eyes won’t hurt.
The other person: What about the heart?
Her: It’s not broken.
The other person: Are my eyes broken?…
Her: *silence*

The other person: I feel like giving up on life.
Her: Why so?
The other person: Such depressing feelings..
Her: So you feel like giving up? Because you’re depressed? Because of that one incident?
The other person: No… It has nothing to do with that.

Her: It began there. Deny it all you want.
The other person: It began there, but it’s not because of that.
Her: Just like life began with birth, but that’s not why you want to give up on it.

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8 thoughts on “c.i.r.c.l.e.s

  1. Everything complex starts with something simple. A thought, an event, a strange missed connection or three. Sometimes the questioning by another is worse than the actual depression itself, worse than the accompanying thoughts of dissipating into the aether in one fell swoop. It’s worse because of all the underlying, unstated judgments that go along with it, both our own and others. Peace.

  2. Just like life began with birth, but that’s not why you want to give up on it.

    Two days ago I binned a poem I’d called life as attenuated suicide because I was worried some might see it as glorification of suicide (it was intended as a tribute to Keith Moon).

    I wonder if ‘The other person’ would be so suicidal if ‘Her’ would get off his/her case. I don’t think constantly trying to invalidate someone’s feelings is a good therapeutic approach.

  3. Pingback: Dusk | Neurodrooling

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