It’s only been gloomy for a few days. Already though, the feeling of the Sun beating down on my back has been forgotten. I can think clearly and know it has been raining all day, yesterday was grey and cold.
Everything is falling, it’s more Autumn than usual and currently there is more Hendrix Nash in Hendrix Nash than there has ever been before. I’ve transitioned. Gone from feeling too little, to feeling too much. Neither of the two scenarios are ideal, and neither of the two are scenarios I enjoy. Simple things leave my mind doing overtime. In the times I most desire rest, I become restless.
It’s gone 8pm. This day has felt longer than others tend to. Saturdays anyway. I woke up before my alarm and felt a deep coldness cover over me like a sheet of ice. The usual routine ensues before I actually get out of bed.
Look at the weather and instantly think that whatever it looks like is going to determine the day.
Look at my phone. Any notifications. Any messages. No. Nothing new there, then.
It’s a new month. Edging closer to dark days, long nights, cold. New month, new struggles. Another month of being angry. Another month that I’ve been hurting. Another month since I was healthy. But this is the start of the hardest days. The Autumn and the Winter are Hell on Earth.
I’m not alone. As much as it hurts to feel this, my brothers too are dying. I hurt more. I woke up with a heavy heart of my own, and it sunk further upon reading the pain of someone close to me. I need him to be okay.
He is hurting. He is not alone.
These bouts with mental health issues seem almost necessary to go through before we can mature. When telling my therapist of my self-doubts — with regards to being and/or becoming a man — she suggested that the troubles I (and we, don’t worry) experience are in place to help the transition.
My transition can wait. Selfishness is key but my friends are dying.
In my dreams, we’re all suffering. Truthfully speaking they are nightmares, but that’s besides the point. The key thing is that I am fast asleep. Lacking control, I cannot intervene.
There have been many as of late. I’ll be in pain but forever alive. My friends, all around me, are dying. And I’m here. Like a bike wheel, with 360 spokes. I am the hub, and my friends the spokes. One degree at a time, the spokes snap. They detach from the hub and wheel. Or they just deteriorate. My friends are going or dying.
Though, through this difficulty I remain. I’m alive. Watch when all degrees are destroyed, I am gone. Each one, a hope of mine.
I remain, unable to save them. Unable to join them. I’ve tried.
I need a little faith maybe; maybe we all do. A little life.
These cold months started colder than I remember them ever being in the past. Either that or I am actually feeling too much. Or I am more sensitive (/honest) than ever.