beautiful monsters

in the dark

The blackness is still here, still as thick and as dark as ever. My ability to cope fluctuates from hour to hour. Every day there are times when I think I’m not going to make it through. But most days there are times when I can manage, when I blog, or go to lectures, when I even laugh a little. I think that makes it harder, lonelier, because people think I’m coping. I can pull myself together on the outside. In fact it’s automatic, like a reflex. There are a few people who I feel like I can be how I am feeling with; my parents, my therapists, my minister. But the rest of the time I try to seem ok. The darkness still gnaws away inside, but on the outside I put on a mask, I start acting. Like a part in a play. I know my lines so well. I can be completely broken, utterly without hope, hitting my head or screaming in desperation. But as soon as the phone rings, or I have to go out into the world, I pull on my coping suit. Sometimes I feel like I’m watching my body from a great distance. Like a puppet, she talks to people, and smiles, and then when they leave I want to call after them “help me, I’m not really ok, I’m drowning.” I want to cry out, all the pain I’m in. But I’m frozen, in the distance, and somehow my body is smiling and waving good bye.