Tug a war with the Big Black Dog

Sitting at the table in the dinning area, I'm privy to the view of several animals. In the kitchen, the only dog who thinks I'm not worth my salt is sitting on a chair, newly returned from the vet from a nasty bought of inner ear infection. He doesn't like me much and he rather be babied by certain members of the family. It's quite annoying, but even so I'm happy to see the jerk feeling better. In the tree outside the kitchen window, a brown Siberian cat lays relaxed in the fig tree waiting for small birds to tear open the rip fruit so that green beetles can eat their remains. Time to time he pounces on strays that wander over to mate or cause general mayhem and he at times climbs through a window and squeaks a greeting from a voice that has been lost with one large tabby and a well placed claw.

The "little cat", the runt of the family of two out of the four cats we still have, one decided to wander off and another had to be given due to their disgusting protest of crapping in corners due to not having their very own litter box, sits on top of the bookcase in between the kitchen and dining room. She's a hard convert considering that we got rid of her most favorite sibling, the before mentioned Corner Crapper, and simply being completely mistrustful of any male touch. It took me years of working to winning her over, something I would compare to teasing and flirting. Small waving, placing treats at a distance and walking away and gradual touches while keeping away far enough to make me strain to reach her yet close enough to have her rub in affectionate greetings. She often dances between my legs as I write, teasing me to pick her up and hold her for a moment as I ignore her when she seeks me and touch her when she least expect me.

I can honestly say that I've learned everything about flirting from dealing with her and understanding that it's highly stupid unless your interest returned and engaged. Then I'm for teasing and kind affectionate shows of love. Until then, speak your mind and intent.

Ha....I'm digressing. I really am. I realized that my writing has taken a hard edge that would be almost considered Liefeld. I'm now realizing that I beat around the bush because my content is rough, brutal and honestly blunt. I'm not sure about you, but my writing is painful. It's an act of spewing bile onto a screen and me somehow trying to find justification on why this is. I need to do more set ups. Show you I'm not always a miserable fuck. That my life is not an Emo/Gothic/Romantic wet dream as life just constantly ravages me as I swoon and get the vapors.

I bleed. I laugh. I live. So I'm going to fluff it a bit. Show I'm actually human....ish? So yea.....animals....I'll get to the point sooner or later.

*takes in breath and continues*

At my figurative feet, the Big Black Dog sits. It constantly moves about the room at times, depends on it's whim to sit here or there, but it always sits near me. It walks with me on days that it will allow me to walk and sits near on days where my movement is to be limited. Often times I collapse and curl up into a fetal with it's large maw laying it's weight upon me, keeping me from continuing what I had planned for the day. It's an animal hard to love. It offers no respite. On my best days, it keeps it's distance yet always keeping in vision. No matter how great my moment is, no matter how fulfilling the laughs are, no matter how lingering the kisses are it's near.

See what I did here? I'm borrowing from Matthew Johnstone's brilliant imagery.  How else could you compare depression? It's not a treat as one would deal with an attacker or someone wielding a gun. It's almost stealthy. It creeps slowly towards you and it is always near. It almost seems harmless until it fully drops the weight on you. You can't prepare for it or plan around it. It simply drags you back always in some increment from blatant to subtle, but its there. Its pulls on it's leash and will always remind you that you're tethered. It pulls on you. It hinders you. It can not be reasoned with or even appeased. Its just there, big, dumb, and heavy. You can't hate it, its a waste to. You can't ever love it because it will always smother you.

*sigh*

So prevention is key. Being proactive is a necessity. I run and work out. I imagine more and more brutal workouts to increase the feel good hormones that makes you feel great. I collect data and analyze it when I need to be motivated. Finding meaning in the decrease of increments of minutes, increase of lean muscle mass, and correlate my effort and desire. All of this is magnificently useful when training others and keeping them pushing and struggling. I'm an amazing cheerleader. I pull up so many people who need that motivation and content drive. I am often times several people motivator. I'm honestly envious of what I'm able to do for others. Sometimes I just want to tear myself apart from the world and just be my coach. My hero. My leader and motivator.

I want someone to chase the fucking dog away. Maybe put it in a kennel. Find that farm upstate where is can depress all the other animals and give us sad meat products. I know, it's stupid and mean, but fuck can you let me be a bit?

So it sits at my feet, looks up and continues to lay there, almost telling me I should be so happy it's not on my chest.

Fucking dog.

*sigh*

I want to write fiction. I want to write horror stories. Comedy. Something interesting about not me where I can allude to things and use symbolism and allow others to sit in a room and discuss over their drink of choice. I want to use my writing to make a living. To inspire. To cause thought and discussion and .....*sigh*....you sigh alot when it's at your fucking feet. Almost as if you can sigh it off and regain your natural breath and not strangle you slowly.

I want to write about not me. I want to write about how crappy my dating life is. To write about moments I can not simply discuss with use of innuendo or simile. ha ha ha.....I want Guillermo del Toro to think I'm amazing and want to put a statue of me in his home and museum. I just realized that's what I want. I want him to mention in an interview that my writing has brought him chills and terrors. That he wants to have lunch with me and to bring along his good friend Kojima. I fucking realized this.....this would be the greatest thing I can ever wish for. Someone noticing my potential made prominent and celebrated. Seeing a statue of Lovecraft being honored for his work despite being paranoid, xenophobic and that special kind of racism that is "a product of his time".

Still honored.

Can I have that?

"He was late onto the literary world, yet he has inspired so many. He brought out an old kind of fear once forgotten and inspired a generation. People today will remember the Romantics. They will remember Charles Bukowski. They will remember Auggie for his body of work ......although the fucker was a huge introvert and harbored an immense hatred towards orangutans.....hunted them on his time off....bit of a monster"

Hahahahahahahahahaha.....ha.......that would be awesome......it would be awesome.....it would be....I wish it was .....

I can tell the Big Black Dog becoming annoyed with me. Can feel it scooting over with every laugh. I almost feel I can laugh it away. Bother it to leave me be by fostering some....joy....happiness....anything.....just to have it leave me alone....and maybe find that secret rocket fuel to launch me into where I want to go instead of here, struggling with trying to exist.....*sighs and notices it scoot closer*

....no no....I have to be positive....even if I have to lie....anything but this... I will be positive. I will be......I will be.....*sighs*

This is my Wednesday afternoon. Struggling with......this. When I could be out there.....being....magnificent....being.....great......doing something.....worth doing....not having the Dog on me. *feeling tears in eyes*....

I want a chance......time is running out. I want what other have......a fucking chance and the ability to take advantage of it.....it won't help if my cheering squad is cheering me on or more then willing to back me in every way. I love you guys. I do. I even feel ashamed that I can do.....I just want to do....not be dragged down.....pulled into nothingness .....to be forgotten.....to lose any potential I may have.....I need to struggle against what kills me or it will pull me down and have other remember me in awkward and sad tones. 

I want my name to be said with laughter. I want other to tell their stories and moment and have others question that I ever did do such things. I want to inspire those of us who struggle and fight to keep fighting. We might die. We might take our lives or even let it take the meaning from it from us, but fuck we have to fight. We have to struggle even if struggling is going to have us sink more. I want to go down swinging if I can not be magnificent......

......*almost to tears*.....to paraphrase The Creature from Mary Shelly's Frankenstein for my purpose, if I can not inspire the world with love, with joy, with kindness and affection that simply dies in me because I can not give it to you for whatever hellish reason, then let me inspire you with hatred. Hatred against this Big Black Dog. Anger towards how it suffocates us. Inspire you with my rage that it had stolen so much of my life. I want you to remember that I swung the hardest, fastest and always went for the kill against what kills me. I want you to remember that its not the world that takes me away from you anymore, its depression, and its killing me and siphoning what life I can share with you for it's own empty means. If I can not be your hero...my hero.....I want to be the fucking villain, if that's the only role given to me. I want depression to feel hatred towards me. I want it to regret attaching itself to me. Make it sorry for the rest of it's horrid existence I want it to bleed by my hand, be it dead or alive. I want it covered with my scars and to hid it's monstrous face from the world. I want others to see it as my bitch. It may just take me, but I want everyone to know I hurt it in ways that it rues. I want my name mentioned in it's place. Call it the Bane of Auggie. Anything to remove it's fucking clout. I want people to mention depression much as many mention consumption or the plague, a harmlessly distant whisper of an age that no one can relate to. 

If you're going to steal my life away, I will hurt you. Even if I have to exist on anger and hared. Even if I have to devise some method to love those around me rooted in the hatred of you, I will. It's not fair nor will I complain, but I will not be take down so easily, especially since I've survived so much before it.

I can feel it slump away.....I'm angry, but it has left me. I don't want to be angry, but I will not remain weak to it. I will poison myself to hurt it if I must.......not that I want to, but I need to continue with what little time I may have.

*sighs out of exhaustion*

Maybe one day I'll reach my dream. Or even some close approximation that will allow me some joy and peace of mind. Maybe. It's hope and hope is a delicious we whisper to ourselves until we can make it manifest. Or it can lull us to slumber in place of the peace we seek. But I will allow myself this.....I will lie to myself until I can make it happen or simply have to let it go. 

I need "hope" and this is the only way I can have it.

I must try until I can do better. 

.....

Please, be kind.
Peace and Love.

I'll write more soon. Despite my sad topics it's helping.