Friday, September 28, 2012

Wandering In The Desert

I've spent a long time in the desert wandering, probably since I was 6 years old.

I'll find an oasis now and then. It can last anywhere from a few hours to about a year. Around a year's time, the beauty and life that once sustained me will have vanished. Then it's shuffling on, hoping for another oasis to appear.

An oasis can be a moment in time, a place, a person, or if I'm really lucky, a place within me grown through outside influences.

Sometimes I feel if I would just look to the left or right of me, I'd see a sustainable oasis. A place where I can plant roots and rest, but nothing is ever there.

This was a conversation topic that got brought up last night while we were talking.

We were talking in metaphors of life and death. It sprung up for a conversation of strength.

I don't believe I am strong. I've dealt with depression for as long as I can remember. I don't have the strength to kick it to the curb, nor do I have the strength to stop this tiresome, lonely walk.

He responded with: "stopping in the desert is death."

I know, it's why I won't stop. Don't have the strength to do it knowing how many it will hurt.

For the most part, the happiness I project is a mask. The social butterfly a defense mechanism.

Inside I am scared, sad, and tired all the time.

As strange as it may sound, I'm terrified of no longer being depressed. It's all I've known. What sits at the depths within me is that deep sadness and pain.

If that's gone, what would I have left?

Having something is better than having nothing at all.

We were talking about strength because I'm currently without a Dom and it's leaving me very unsettled. I'm clinging to the last refuges of previous control because I desperately need it in my life.

I'll find my way with it. I always do. It won't be near as happy or satisfying. But I'm used to that.

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