Wednesday, January 30, 2013

Burying the Horse.

I'm usually influenced by music. Most people are, even if they don't want to admit it. Music influences everything. Music is life's gift. Music has the capability to change your life, or at least help you make sense of things that you feel, because someone, somewhere, has felt the same thing. My song of the day has been Florence and the Machine's "Shake it Out". This song has almost brought me to tears with each press of the back button.
    "I've been a fool and I've been blind, I can never leave the past behind." I have so many times, on so any occasions, wished that I could forget so many things. But I have learned that no matter how much I wish I could change things, they are mine to keep. It's just letting them seep in and quit giving them the power to expose me at every chance they get. They are marks on my soul, not another's. The internal tattoos that tell my heart's path on the journey of me. I remember posting a status on facebook once saying, "Sometimes, I really wish I could Eternal-Sunshine-of-my-Spotless-Mind myself." Or something along those lines. Promptly, one of my fellow-librans immediately responded, "Then you would never be who you are today." True, very true indeed. But with healing, there is swelling. As a manic-depressant, swelling to me is that feeling when that anxious-wave cascades upwards through your body as that warm sting behind your eyes releases their tattle-tales. Then the release, and the deep breath.
    "It's hard to dance with a devil on your back." I was just explaining the other day to my significant-other that my depression is my demon. I prefer to be non-medicated. Well, I self-medicate, in a very herbal way. Say what you want about marijuana being a gateway drug, it's simply not true. I will not give you all my explanations right now because it is just not the time in which I wish to dive into that. It's obviously moving up by itself. Back to this demon. There is no greater struggle than the heavy-weight death-match against that horrible demon that continuously tries to envelop you in it's madness. Some of us lose the fight, and the soldiers that are here still fighting the good fight bow their heads and release our own 21 gun salute. This demon is an asshole, says the meanest shit and thinks he can just get away with it. Well I'm still here, pounding the pavement in my asshole-demon suit of armor, with music as my shield.

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