In my depression,
My remarkably great depression,
The most vicious component is Time.
Time is illusive and deceptive.
It plays cruel games with my mind.
Five hours seem like not enough time to get ready.
One minute of stillness seems like an eternity of pain and suffering.
Depression,
One thing good about you,
You have shown me that
Time is illusive and deceptive.
It means nothing.
We pace our lives through pre-constructed fragments of time.
But, perhaps some days ARE longer than others? Perhaps sometimes the sun loves us more, and the moon hides for its own reasons.
Our decomposition rate is different, at the same age people don’t look the same age.
Perhaps these fragments are false, and one person’s day IS longer than another’s, or that time passes differently for different people, or that,
Time is illusive and deceptive.
Scientists use equations to measure time yet they still know nothing at all about it, and I’m supposed to blindly accept the length of an hour? In my mind every hour is different, it is the same with my experience.
The missing pieces of ourselves are always revealed to us when time stands still, yet the feeling we get from this enlightenment disappears in a split of a second.
We can have a series of life changing thoughts in less than a minute, we will need hours to explain them in words.
If we think with words, then the above is only possible because
Time is illusive and deceptive.
When I’m depressed I am deceived easily,
And I also see vividly.
When Time deceives me in one thing, I wake to all its lies at once.
Here, I find secrets of the world,
Just because of how
Hard it is for me to
Take a shower.
Time tricks me to think it will take forever, a suffering that I cannot endure.
And when I am in I am joyous and within a few streams, my suffering cures.
It is not depression that does this,
It is not anxiety.
It is time that plays with me.
I see you,
You almost had me.
You are illusive and deceptive.
People suffer to run by your side,
I don’t want anything to do with you,
Alone I stride.
I believe in the truth,
Everything dies.
But time has nothing to do with it,
It is the circle of life.
Time is not circular,
Otherwise the dead would be back,
We would still not meet them,
The wheel isn’t flat.
Time can’t trick me anymore,
I want to be able to step out the door
To a fragment not sore,
And not call it “Time”.
Time has miscarried me
With its fallacy.
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