Chokey

Do you ever listen to a song that alludes to sublime pleasures that you feel you’ll never be able to reach the height of? Like smelling the fragrance of the most delectable desert, the allusion to the warmest  comfort, imaging the beautiful eyes of a God that loves you unconditionally?

Just to realize you most likely will never feel, smell, taste, see those things? I think the hardest types of depression besides isolation is that sensation of tasting the zen, the ecstasy that is always just out of reach. If I had never imagined it, or never tasted it, it wouldn’t have been an issue, but when you can feel so close to it that you rub elbows, well it’s just rubs you raw.

Like watching the shuttle craft blast off into space, watching the wonder, seeing the pinnacle of human development in that instant as we penetrate the atmosphere and for that moment become an idea greater than anything we’ve ever been before. Escaping Earth’s gravity, abstracting ourselves from our daily drudgery, from the inchoate, imprecise existence in the mockery we call civilization, and knowing we will probably never ride in one of those.

It’s a yearning for that latent possibility, it’s that abstruse emotional blockage that derives its growth from the shadows of each day. In a beautiful mystery we all exist, in a sad existence we all suffer.

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I hope I’m not getting addicted to MK. I miss her immeasurably right now, and it feels like sat/sun. Although, I can still concentrate – it’s not that bad. I’m wondering if it’s just the withdrawal from my previous prescription use and staying away from alcohol.