Dear Ariel… (2)

 Dear Ariel… 

How are you, how is Lagos, job interviews and your sweet beautiful soul? 

I’m writing to make amends, but I can’t make amends without explaining this to you. It’s not everything I have an explanation for, but I’ll explain this to you

This is what depression looks like, feels like a million bald men pressing my neck in the middle of  a chore, a task or mostly in my deepest sleep, it gives room for me to act on my impulse, to sit quiet ,to laugh harder than the joke, to think about why I act on certain things and how to get out from it.. 

It feels like getting closer to God, writing down prayers, loosing sleep, fasting reverently hoping all my request are answered, and then loosing faith and going back to questioning if he really exist. 

It’s loving someone I haven’t met, praying and nurturing, hoping to see them soon, and then loosing them carelessly, with no explanation. 

It feels like overdosing, and praying that I’ll be found dead in the sitting room alone, without a note, without a trace, without any knowledge, after many days, still wanting to be one of the people that found-me, crying over my death, attending my funeral. 

It feels like being outside too, with clasping of drinks, loud music, fresh chatter, fake smile, loud laugh and praying and wishing that the night remains, hoping it never ends, closing my eyes and savoring the moment. 

It feels like running away from people, cause the only thing I’m good at is not being consistent. Of swallowing them in small doses, cant afford to talk , don’t want to, so I run away and put out a show of being too busy . 

It feels like being everywhere except home, crying on the drive back home, pressing the accelerator till the adrenaline stops.  Removing hands from the steering, hoping something happens, but feeling guilty, crying on the turn to the house, silently, because happiness stops at the front of the door, and sadness welcomes me, still not finding anywhere to call home, except here 

It feels like loving someone you aren’t meant to love, loving them harder than you love yourself, sometimes it chokes, and you are aware, but that’s the only thing you know how to do, loving them, caring, nurturing, gently, so even when their actions doesn’t seem fine, you swallow it and make excuses for them. Sometimes begging them to love you too, even if it’s in bits, crying on your knees that they look at you, even though their gaze is solely on someone. You know, but you rather be selfish.

It’s feels like preparing your mind to write today, smile today, cook, clean or take a picture, fix your nails but can’t. Cause the moment you step outside there is a wheezing in your throat, your legs are heavy, and your eyes blurry, so you just run back inside, take the bucket and continue to weep inside. 

If feels like being lost in thought, thinking about what you will be in 35 years, different scenarios, dreaming of a wedding but not a marriage, hoping you lived a fulfilling life and trusting that you didn’t make decisions that will kill you earlier than that. Scared of Turning 40 and mad,Making extra prayers cause you know how difficult life is and how you can never prepare for it. 

It’s feels like missing someone that has gone, and will never return, of dialing their numbers, waiting for it to ring, and smashing your phone hearing “ the number you dialed is switched off” of shouting and wailing and asking God why, cause “ you can only have one mother” and everything seems harder without her. 

It feels like cleaning and scattering, scattering to clean tomorrow, but never cleaning, or waiting for a savior to come, praying that someone will come to beg you to eat,to clean for you, feed you, show you outside, hold your hands and tell you it’s fine. But the moment a call comes, you smash your phone. 

It feels like missing your favorite things, but not thinking of them, of cooking only for it to taste like chalk, actually everything tastes like chalk or cardboard, or phlegm, and your favorite things are taking time to come back to you. 

It feels like hiding from yourself, ashamed of who you have become, touching your skin trying to feel, looking at the mirror, and can’t recognize yourself, of hiding your phone in the closet for days, hot showers, so your skin peels and you remember how to feel, how to be yourself, how to move past it, how to hold yourself and show up for yourself. But you can’t. 

It feels like signing up for therapy thinking you will be saved, attending and promising not to go back. After-all, nobody can ever understand you. Nobody can tell you what to do next, how to make amends, how to talk again or how to live again, except you. So you say to yourself, “ I’ll get better tomorrow, today is late” 

It feels like telling yourself to be grateful for little things, being alive, having food, and family. grateful for waking up again, grateful for great health, even though deep down, you feel you don’t need them, you want to end it some days, and not wanting to end it most days. 

Ariel… I hope you understand, but I needed to take time for myself, I needed to drop everything and show up for myself, I needed to remind myself that I’m worth the stress, I’m worth it, I needed to love being alive , feel alive and be me again 

I miss you best friend, please write back. 

With love 

Sim Emmanuel