Do what thou whilt shall be the whole of the law.
Medicated depression. That’s what I call it. Depression but not bound in the disordered depression hole I’ve tasted so many, far too many, times in my life. That addictive poisonous leech of the pit born in shadow and hunger, always gaping, always…no…just normal people depressed, at least I think…i hope…
So why am I feeding it? I’m not sure. I’m feeding it with Phoebe Bridgers, that aural beauty seldom matched; the crowned and conquering queen of tearjerkers…
Well,
…sometimes it’s ok to be depressed and even soak in it a bit so long as it’s not an avenue to the darkness pit. Sometimes you need to feel down to remind you you’re still human. Sometimes it’s ok to make yourself cry over old things you’ve already cried over before. Sometimes it’s ok to long for the void. Sometimes, just sometimes. Just remember to always bring your emotional support rope to get yourself out when you’ve done all the sulking you need; so you can get back up and move along to the next thing your life has in store for you. Everything’s ok at the end of the episode until it isn’t, but that’s just a part of the cycles of possessed corporal matter. You can’t hold it together forever and eventually it gives out and you have to prepare for the next. Cycles of conception, birth, life, and death. Ever ever it goes, the wheel of fortune bringing what it will when it will for none but reasons only Chaos knows. This is ok, that’s ok, were ok. Life is what you need it to be to get you to where you need to go. You’ve got this thing, this will, this task sitting in your arms begging to be fed, and you have nothing but milk to give; to feed the infant to grow and find their own meaning, to find that thing that thou hast no right but to do. Oh to feed the crying infant will, to feed the infant will…
…bring me though midnight to the sun. Save me from evil and from good. That Thy one crown of all the ten. Even now…
well,
Love is the law, love under will.
…AMEN,
Vanessa