My self is mainly effected by 3 things;
Gender Dysphoria
Anxiety
and Depression.
Like the Greek Moirai, Depression effects my view of my birth, Anxiety effects my view of my life, and Depression effects my view of my death.
However a better metaphor for these ignored illnesses...
Gender Dysphoria
Anxiety
and Depression.
Like the Greek Moirai, Depression effects my view of my birth, Anxiety effects my view of my life, and Depression effects my view of my death.
However a better metaphor for these ignored illnesses...
...would be that of Judge, Jury, and Executioner.
Dysphoria, the Judge of my self, refusing me of absolution.
Anxiety, the Jury of my actions, assuming wronging yet undecisive as how.
Depression, the executioner, yet instead of an axe, it's a slow poison, like a lethal injection.
Dysphoria, the Judge of my self, refusing me of absolution.
Anxiety, the Jury of my actions, assuming wronging yet undecisive as how.
Depression, the executioner, yet instead of an axe, it's a slow poison, like a lethal injection.
Just two of these problems and maybe I'd be able to live my life, but all three heads of this hydra breathing their wretched hellfire on my self.
How I got this far with all this? Fear of death. Just because the thoughts of death haunt me, doesn't mean I idolize it.
How I got this far with all this? Fear of death. Just because the thoughts of death haunt me, doesn't mean I idolize it.
My Depression seems to act on a ideal of mutually assured destruction. My Anxiety seems to act on an ideal of blitzkrieg. My Dysphoria runs on the ideal of attrition. I survive the war by staying neutral, because if you can't confront Demise, then live the live you don't deserve.
Stay blind to my own problems and the consequences of ignoring them. I let Time lead me on like a seeing eye dog. I know I am broken. A blind man knows he cannot see, and is glad to be led, though it be by a dog. Clinging to my fake ignorance of a future.
People tell me that it gets better, and maybe it does. I don't care. I don't know what it is, but *I* need to get better. And this sickness is uncurable. It runs like wildfire. However... in the end the sickness does lose, all sicknesses do.
Because diseases can't live off of something dead. Time starts you with your birth, speeds you through your life, and pushes you to Demise. And Demise is inevitable. So all meet Demise, it's what you get done in the time you have that matters so others can keep the ball rolling.
Honestly, I think we're pushing the ball in the wrong direction. But it doesn't really matter what I think. Eventually my opinion will be lost too like me.
On it's way to Demise.
Lost to Time.
On it's way to Demise.
Lost to Time.
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