Depression is a tricky beast to tame. You do your best to avoid its gaping mouth, lined with jagged teeth and a hungry tongue, but the moment you turn your back, it pounces; toying with you, tossing you effortlessly like a rag doll, and leaving you for dead.
It doesn’t even finish the job. It leaves that to you.
The animal that is despair is even fiercer in the wild. Once we learn to leave our caged lives behind, we face an even greater adversary, the free mind. Where bars and ceilings at least provided security, the open sky and endless jungle bring our deepest fears to fruition, exposing our hearts, liberating us from captivity but leading us into the unforgiving wilderness.
Lately, I have been running from this clever predator, searching for a higher tree to climb, a darker pit to hide, a rushing river to take me away; the fear of being devoured forcing me to consider swimming with the currents of status quo [as opposed to counter flow] – anything to bring me to safety.
Even my dreams have been invaded by this savage hunter, as I awake each morning with the sick feeling of hopelessness, wanting nothing more but to stay in bed as opposed to facing yet another wasted day, performing the same simian routine as the day, the month, the year prior.
I am tired, sick to my stomach of this moderate stance and I long to join the dance.
Where is my fire?
Where is my flame?
Where is the will to not only tame this malevolent monster, but to seize its mocking mane and mount its trophy head in my hall of memories?
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