Monday, January 2, 2017
I think the best parts of me are almost gone now. My depression has eaten away at every facet of my life and left me with very little self. What's left of me isn't very nice. Or strong. Or even relevant.
The New Year's bombing in Nigeria and shooting in Istanbul are matters of fact that I saw in headlines. My initial reaction to tragedy has always been horror and pain. Much to the dismay of others in my life, I have always been incredibly empathetic to the point where I could lose sleep for nights in a row, even as a child, worried and crying about the plight of a stranger. I loved that about myself. I would not have traded it. It proved to me, if to no one else, that I was a good person with a good heart. It's gone.
I still know the difference between right and wrong; good and bad; left and right. I still know what is supposed to break my heart when I see it in the news, but my heart doesn't break any more. I'm not sure it's even in there. Everything is just a matter of fact. Its all a thing that happened. Its all going to be a thing that was going to happen because we have, as a society and as a world, embraced the very least among us in 'leadership' and told the marginalized among us, 'Yeah. Too fucking bad.' I'm not sad. I'm only angry. I only have anger. And hate. Anything lovely that once lived inside of me seems to be gone.
Something inside me still exists, though I can't identify it. But I have come to the end of this revelation and find that I'm crying for my loss. So there's that.