There is a road. Sp, in S, along the river. There is a road, I cannot drive. It does not matter how bright the day, how light my mind. I drive it and the sky outside my windshield is dark and there is a squeeze, wrapping itself around my heart and lungs and throat, trying to choke me out. My wheels are aligned, perfectly fine, but they pull to the river regardless. I could have been having the best day, but on that road, I want to die.
Even now, when I assume I’m better, it’s scary to drive without my bass in the back. She was always my reason to fight it, I have plans for her past myself, and without an excuse, even on a good day, I’m scared of myself.
I’ve been feeling better since coming down here, that is true. But I’ve been running up against a familiar struggle, musically, a day-in-day-out battle for and against the thing I love that I’ve been locked in for 7 years now.
I know that my depression has a real impact on my mind. The thoughts you have most often pave themselves into your mind’s chosen highway. There is a real reason that even when I don’t want to die, want to live, actually, that Sp makes me feel otherwise. But it’s only just now that it’s occurred to me that perhaps something similar has been happening to me, musically. Perhaps that’s why my battle is ongoing, still. I worry that those 6-7 years have well and truly fucked me up. And that’s terrifying. I don’t want to look back into the mirror and see who I’ve been.
No comments:
Post a Comment