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| Blogs > QuiteKindMind > QuiteKindMind Storytime |
Momentum
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Momentum Thirty-five years I’ve walked this earth. Most of those, I’ve not walked alone. Family kept lockstep throughout, friends for a duration, even faith for a time. Depression, that terrible thing, has stayed with me for much of it. It is a leech, taking from you vitality and the will keep going. Early on, it ate. For whatever reason, I kept moving. Deep it dug fangs as I became sick. Endless amounts of gut pain, depression telling me quit. Give in. Life is pointless. There is nothing but pain here. Yet I kept moving. I found a way live around the agony. College — early — and life slowly began. While I sprouted, Loneliness grew alongside. You are alone, it whispered. You will always be so. You are too different. Depression provided more: you will die alone. There is no point. Give in. My teeth barred, I pushed through. Marriage. I find someone who I believe I can trust. We vow to provide, to have and hold. Yet there is no hold. No provisions. Loneliness remains, telling me life is supposed to be like this. You are meant to feel isolated. Depression laughs. “You are nothing. Nobody wants you, not even your family.” Fists clenched against the barren earth, knees scraped raw, I crawl. A is born. He is wonderful. My marriage, already so lifeless, focuses on our progeny. What little I received, there is naught. I become a shadow. Loneliness and depression smile. “We’ve won,” they say. My face lays on jagged rocks. My enemies stand upon my back. Bloodied fingers dig into the ash and dirt, dragging forward an inch. I do not give in. Their smiles falter. Writing re-enters my life. Others respond. Just a few at first, but contact is contact. What little attention I receive, I throw into more words. Effort begets effort. The enemies cry, “You cannot do this! You are small! Weak! We are mighty!” Using my own protruding bones, I pull myself forward. I spit blood at my foes and smile back with red teeth. Someone responds to my writing. They show interest. Make promises. Tell me sweet nothings and lovely, sexy thoughts. Hope blooms while Loneliness begins to cower. But the promises are false. The attention is fraud. Depression picks up Loneliness and proclaims, “You see, ? You try, but will always fail. Nobody in this world wants you. Give up. It will be easier.” The last part is true. It would be easier. No pain. No loneliness. No effort. But they are clueless. Life is pain, but it is also love, hope, beauty, majesty. Life is everything where they are only absence. Depression and Loneliness are tiny things with loud voices. My arms and legs are gone. All that remains are meaty stumps. My dermis is peeled and raw, hair ripped in clumps. Depression and Loneliness have had their fun. Using my chin, I pull myself forward. They scream in shrill tones, “Stop this madness! You are broken! We have won!” I laugh long and hard. Through the pain, my sides ache. For the first time, I speak. My voice is dry, raw, and filled with menace. “Never.” With all I have left in my mind, body, and soul, I push forward. Each small movement restores my broken form. My enemies panic, their faces ashen. “This is impossible! You are nothing! Submit!” Inch by inch, my strength returns. My response grows more powerful. “Never.” All of their might presses down on me. My chest compresses and I can barely breathe. Yet I push. “Stop! Stop now and submit! It will be easier!” Muscles and bone return to my limbs. Their pressure continues to increase. My back buckles, but I claw forward. Loneliness tells me, “You are alone in this. You fight for what? For who? Even if you win, nobody will be there.” I straighten my renewed back muscles and heave. My hamstrings strain against my foes. Chest muscles bulge as I force my way through. New fingers grab Loneliness and throw him to the dirt. With every ounce of strength, I stomp over his wailing form. Depression, ever the stronger of the duo, clenches his fists and teeth. “You will never be rid of us. We will return. You will never be free.” Rage, an and long forgotten playmate stands by my side. His burning visage and molten eyes lock with mine. He nods and reaches a hand out. Fear creeps into my throat, but in this moment, I need him. I clasp his forearm and accept. His essence leaps into me, and my bloodied skin sets ablaze. It feels good. Right. The world is mine to burn. Then I see him. Depression. The reason for all of this. Endless fury builds in my chest. my pain fans the flames, and I charge. With a horrendous bellow, I leap and grasp at his neck. His strong, black hands try to pry me loose, but the years of suffering have given me strength he will never know. His slimy, black lips choke final words, “You. Will. Never. Be. Free.” I raise from his corpse, take deep breaths, and allow Rage to depart. A small hint of flame remains in my eyes as I glance down on the silent, sickly form of Depression. “We’ll see.” Without a second glance, I set out yet again. Forward. Always. |
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Has anyone else tussled with all of the missing words and characters introduced here? My original manuscript has at least a dozen words that are absent when posted here. Very strange.
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