Blue Sky in Winter

Wide expanse overarching infinite possibilities

Like a  blue hue flooded with too much water on the canvas,

Paled by iridescent light
Blinding the dim dismal eye  blinking and cursing at the intrusion of positivity, possibility

These Scrooge like misery mutterings give way to

awe at the  flawlessly acrobatic birds  soaring

wonder at the mechanical reliability of the day that Will follow night

Fleeting joy at the  warming caress of a  winter sun

a glimmer of hope that the bright sky can absorb this unfailing despair

this overriding  dark, dank, dense burden of  hopelessness

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Trapped in depression

I hate the night before, feeling so stressed about getting out of bed and trying to work tomorrow.

I feel so awful. So much dread.

I have to do it. No choice.

If I don’t go, it stresses out my family so much, makes them angry, disappointed.

I should count blessings: a bed, a roof, a child who cares. 

Just feel so low….

Staying in bed gets me nowhere.  I know I need to try, just no motivation.

I just feel so horrible

My every emotion is present here in this work of art

All men have secrets and here is mine
So let it be known
For we have been through hell and high tide
I think I can rely on you
And yet you start to recoil
Heavy words are so lightly thrown
But still I’d leap in front of a flying bullet for you

So, what difference does it make?
So, what difference does it make?
It makes none
But now you have gone
And you must be looking very old tonight

The devil will find work for idle hands to do
I stole and I lied, and why?
Because you asked me to!
But now you make me feel so ashamed
Because I’ve only got two hands
Well, I’m still fond of you, oh-ho-oh

So, what difference does it make?
Oh, what difference does it make?
Oh, it makes none
But now you have gone
And your prejudice won’t keep you warm tonight

Oh, the devil will find work for idle hands to do
I stole, and then I lied
Just because you asked me to
But now you know the truth about me
You won’t see me anymore
Well, I’m still fond of you, oh-ho-oh

But no more apologies
No more, no more apologies
Oh, I’m too tired
I’m so sick and tired
And I’m feeling very sick and ill today
But I’m still fond of you, oh-ho-ohOh, my sacred one
OhSource: LyricFindSongwriters: Steven Morrissey / 

This song is perfection. It reaches me deeply as it presents a mirror of ourselves and our loves mingled with deep resentments. Real life

Lyrics Smiths

That’s the story of my life

Is life sick and cruel instead?

Life tends to come and go

I want the freedom and I want the guile.

Everybody’s got to live their lives And God knows I’ve got to live mine!!!!!

I’ve started something And now I’m not too sure

How I’m the 18th pale descendant Of some young creep or other

We can go for a walk where its quiet and dry And talk about precious things

Last night I dreamt that somebody loved me No hope no harm Just another false alarm

I am the son and heir Of nothing in particular

You could meet someone who really loves you So you go and you stand on your own and you leave on your own And you go home and you cry and you want to die

Now I know how Joan of Arc felt

I’ve got no right to take my place in the human race

Haven’t had a dream in a long time

The life I’ve had would make a good man bad

If a ten tonne truck kills the both of us To die by your side The pleasure the privilege is mine

What she asked of me at the end of the day Caligula would have blushed

In my life why do I waste valuable time ON people who dont care if I live or I die

And now 18 years hard labour Seems fair enough

I’ve seen this happen in other peoples lives Now its happening in mine x forever

Call me morbid call me pale I’ve spent 6 long years on your trail

Back to basics…

Mozart Requiem. Familiar. Go to wearisome, heaviness. Go to thick, impenetrable layers of sadness. I’m immobile, unable to ‘turn that frown upside down’. Asking too much.

So, I let the drama of the scrubbing violins, haughty call of the trumpets and trombones, overreaching tide of the unison choir take me, partially, to transcendent places in the Dies Irae.

My spirit rising smoke wisps, my body heavier than ten ton bricks.

It’s the only way. Is to feel. Not understand. Not reach for fake explanations of love gone sour, changes in mood medicines or hormonal imbalances.

It’s all toooo much. And that’s ok coz I’ll float on the ebb and flow of the Lacrymosa, tender violin falling phrases, touching my unreachable niggling soreness.

Never good enough

So I’m feeling a dip in mood.

The sadness that leads to wanting long spells of unconsciousness.

Was having a lovely day-nice students, gorgeous violin practise, cute flirting.

Then my kids reminded me of the loser I truly am: the hypocrite, the general irritant and my friend instructed me to stop calling her so frequently…just toooo intense.

I’m feeling so low. Thank God I can fall asleep soon and pretend I dont exist.

Positive vibes…

Sound so mystical, yet so meticulously empiric.

Do stuff. Move. Communicate.

In time, there’s a breakneck rush to the brain of pluses and yaaaays. Smiles implode from every angle.

Negatives are smaller. Problems diminish. Insecurities melt.

But if this is such a simple formula, why oh why can’t I follow it, word for word over and over? Why am I struggling each day with the very fact I have to Be? Why am I still playing hide and seek with my self?