The Vigil

Can’t sleep, for fear of waking
The pain inside me keeps me shaking
Twisting in the wind, left hanging
Slamming my skull, incessant banging

Grinding my teeth, silently waiting
Skirting the thin ice that I’m now skating
Wishing for everything to just be okay
Knowing that only the darkness will stay

The negative voices inside of my head
Will never stop chiding until I am dead
Constantly fighting the ceaseless oppression
That’s how we fight against manic depression

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The Pit

No reason for these thoughts
It isn’t fair to you
The reason for my dreaming
The pain in which I stew

The pit inside my stomach
True pain inside my soul
My feelings drawing closer
The illness takes its toll

Why do I think about this
The torture to behold
Why can’t I let it go now
Increasing pain ten-fold

I want to cry so badly
But the tears will not form
I want to scream in anguish
The anger, too, feels warm

The sickness ever spreading
I can’t withdraw my heart
My soul is truly broken
Perhaps it’s from the start

Succubus

Crying out, I’m fighting
Shocked by pain, you hit me
Words escaping, I’m bleeding
Soul wrenching, receding

You love me, you hurt me
Why do this? You break me
Please stop now, you rip me
Sleep swiftly, you drugged me

Try to help, you stab me
Cry for help, you stop me
Outdoors now, you slap me
Please end this, you trapped me

Tore heart out, you’re laughing
Why hurt me, you’re stabbing
Please no more, you end me
I’m leaving, we’re done now.

Insomnia

Can’t sleep, another night draining
Thoughts abound and voices aren’t waning
Trusted words kept, but doubts creeping
As I lie here and type this, while quietly weeping

It’s nobody’s fault; It’s all in my head
No use in wondering what’s already said
Don’t wish to crumble; For help is still here
Even if I’ve no courage to be clear

Advice for Your Past Self

If you could go back ten years and tell yourself some advice, what would it be? I was recently asked that. My first thought was “Can I go back further?”. Before I address the further, let me address the first. If I go back ten years, what do I tell my 19 year old self?

Monty, the world in the next ten years is going to be rife with pain. You will hate others, as you hate yourself. You will get through it. Don’t wish that you won’t go through it. Instead, know that you will rise above the twisting quagmire, and that you will become a better person because of it. You won’t have it figured out in ten years. You won’t feel much better in ten years. You will, however, be in a better place, whether you choose to believe it or not. You are stronger than you know, and you’ve got this.

That’s great and all, but it feels empty. I know that my disorder takes on new life from 2006 to 2016. I went through three relationships; One that I thought was great, before the deception. The second was utter hell and one of the major reasons my concurrent depression manifested itself into a disease with so much stigma, it hurts. The third was the best relationship I’ve ever had, with no ill-will or hatred clinging to the albeit bittersweet memory of it.
In the past ten years I will have lived in three different places, including the apartment I live in now. One was an apartment that I spent my teenage years, and my early twenties in. The second was the house my mother and her six siblings grew up in, with my grandmother who had dwindling mental capacity, through the medium of vascular dementia. Now I live in a stable neighborhood, in a good place. Close to people I care very much about and to the place I grew up in, for some nostalgic comfort.
In the past ten years, I have learned about the utmost evil in people. I had a person who told me they loved me beat the absolute shit out of me. I got to be an innocent bystander to some of the greatest atrocities committed by my fellow man, with still no end in sight. In the current climate, we stand on the edge of a knife, as the world around us will cut us in half. It’s in the back of my mind always, but I don’t ever voice the concern.
In the past ten years, I will have met some of the greatest people in the world, through the medium of gaming. I would call many of these folks friends through and through. They’ve been there through the bad, and also with the good. I am indebted to these people.
But, the last ten years aren’t where the problems started. They’re just where they manifested in new ways.
Can I go back to 1992, when I was starting the first grade? Can I ignore my 6 year old self, and go to my first grade teacher, Mrs. Wells, and tell her to NOT put the child-me into the advanced math program, without first teaching me the frigging basics? I liked Mrs. Wells as a child. She was a nice Jewish lady who was kind to us. In hindsight, however, she was not a great teacher. I would spend the remainder of my education (1-12) absolutely behind in math, because I never learned the building blocks of basic addition and subtraction in the first grade. To this day, almost thirty years old, I can’t do basic math in my head.  Today is August 2, what will the number be in two and a half weeks?
Still August. No idea.
Can I go to 1998, where I start middle school, as a very angry sixth grader? My parents had just told us they would be getting divorced. I was furious. I was depressed. My family assumed this was just puberty, that the hormones were all outta whack. That I was too young to understand.
Maybe I was, but don’t dismiss my symptoms.
Can I go back to those days and sit down with myself and tell me to just do my homework? That the next few years are going to have their fair share of utter pain. How do I do that?
How do I tell myself that the crushes will be fleeting and will not be reciprocated?
How do I tell myself that while yes, homework is an arbitrary hoop to jump through, and education and hard work do not equal success, but the failure to invoke either is doom?
The bigger question is, should I go back to tell myself anything?
Will my sudden work ethic in sixth grade change who I am today, making this introspection worthless? Will I have met all the great people I know today?
It’s a paradox that even though I’d have the ability to make things better, I could potentially make them worse.
I am not without my faults. There are many things about me that I consider to be broken. I am eternally anxious, and need to fill that void with good experiences, which I fear, is driving people away. I am neurotic and incessantly buzzing.
But I am not without my merits. I am kind to a fault. I want nothing more than to make others (especially the ones whom I love) to be happy. If I can ease the day to day suffering of others, than I am at peace with my role. The late Robin Williams once said that the people who bring the most joy are the ones who are in the most pain. I can relate to that.
This helped. It’s not a fun read. It’s certainly a glimpse into my head, which is what it says in tiny purple letters at the top of the page.
I started to cry, like, full on sob writing this. I needed that. Boys are taught to not cry, no weakness. I say fuck that. Crying isn’t weakness. It helps. It was long overdue. And besides, showing weakness is to be human. We’re all vulnerable sometimes. Some folks need help on the other side of the mask, the wall, the shell. It’s human nature.
Hopefully, we can all be happy. One step at a time. Maybe that’s what I’d tell myself.
One step at a time.
Great, I’m a fortune cookie.

Sisyphus

Distant shouting mixed with screeches
Siphoned joy from human leeches
Solitude with sins I’ll atone
While I deal with this alone

Not one to mock thy grinning
Someone else is surely winning
In despair here with my thoughts
As my soul festers and rots

The dreams I have that bring me life
Awake instead they bring me strife
The things I want will never be
How can I make the others see?

Though with her, we’d have great fun
But before it starts, we’ve seen it done
A stab in heart, shackled my mind
Now no solace can I find

I’ll take her burdens, I’ll take the pain
No longer should she have the strain
I’ll lift her above the quagmire
A task from which I’ll never tire

The swirling clouds of black surround
And now my joy’s no longer found
I breathe the mist just like the air
But set her down I’d never dare

For those that shine like morning’s light
Should not be cast in forever night
Us broken ones shall bear the force
For you are happy, no remorse

So forever, I’ll fight for you
With something you never knew
A flame that rages in my heart
With a love that’s been there since the start

Truth Hurts

He stared out into the darkness, straining to see the incoming legions. He stretches his limbs and hefts his sword, then bounces on the balls of his feet. In throngs beyond number, they came over the crest of the hill and charged him.
The first few were cut down effortlessly.
Nobody likes you.
You are worthless.
Don’t waste our time.
Many of these lesser demons fell to his blade. His sharp, azure eyes pierced their armor, and struck out at their inner weaknesses. It was after a while, when the trials of battle began to tire him, that the greater demons stepped forward.
She’s perfect for you, but you’ll never be perfect for her.
A blow that brought him to his knees. As he stood back up, he was hit again.
She will be happy without you, forever.
Wincing in pain, he thrust the blade deep into the demon’s chest. Black ichor bubbled from the wound, staining his hands. As he rammed the blade in, to the hilt, he whispered in the demon’s ear;
I know that already.
He tore the blade free and spun around, removing the demon’s head in one fell swoop. Triumphant in his victory, his happiness was short lived, as the roars from the other side of the hill could be heard. Once again, he peered out into the darkness.
His battle would never end.