Did It Really Happen?

Introduction

Depression happens to anyone and everyone, if even for a moment, it is present.
Once you experience it’s elements, you will always know it. It is a worldwide occurrence; no one is safe from it. It makes a person question events in their lives; it makes a person wonder if some things really happened. It makes a person doubtful about life.
But should it be feared?
Some accept it and deal with it, some deny it and refuse to handle anything that is associated with it. It is studied and reasons are given, but what are the reasons when it strikes a happy person? A person who has no reason to feel it?
Not everyone is completely happy, that is understood, but there are people who are happy enough that one would expect him or her not to suffer from this ‘illness’.
Is it an illness?
Should we look on it with trepidation?
Or is it a gift, cunningly disguised?
The elements of depression are many; they can happen to anyone and everyone, if even for a moment. This is one of mine.

Did It Really Happen?

I lay, quiet and still, listening to the sounds of ‘Counting Crows’ coming from my small cd player. Butterfly in Reverse, my favourite song from the album; about a girl, a wonderfully unique girl. The lyrics got me thinking; thinking of old friends, thinking of new friends and thinking of friends that I haven’t been in contact with for a long time.


There is an emptiness inside of me, an emptiness that, yet, is filled with intense emotion. Sadness.
Pain.
Loss.
Agony.
The need to be rid of my own being in order to relieve myself of these feelings. To end all that disturbs my heart, my mind, and my soul.

I thought on something a friend had said to me: if you never try it, you’ll never miss it.
In a way, I felt that that was what I should have heeded concerning some of my friendships, but I was also glad that I had not. My life so far would not have been as meaningful or happy as it has; I would have lost out on so many wonderful experiences, so many beautiful meetings, and so many heart-wrenching moments.

I felt the emptiness with one friendship in particular; it made me think back to it, the joy, the happiness, the love.
I tried to recall when, how and where we had met, but my memory was blank. It saddened me even more. My most cherished friendship and I cannot remember the details, I cannot remember every single moment. I wonder if it had really happened. There are moments and events that I can picture, that I can feel, but I cannot recall any more.
Only the lasting passion, the contentment, the immeasurable connection that we had.
And when I gaze at the moon, full and bright, I let those pleasures wash over me, enfolding me. But still the immense feeling of having lost a part of my soul is engulfing, and tears trail down my cheeks.

I feel the need to restore myself, to recreate my soul, but for what cause? The emotions will prevail and my heart knows the truth; the absolute love and affection, platonic and yet not, a soul-deep sensation. I know that I cannot reclaim that piece of myself and I know that I do not wish to even should I be given the opportunity.

I have known love. In its pure essence. Unfathomably. Indisputably.

I am mystified to the reasons why I was given this gift, this curse. And only those who have truly known it, or those that truly have not, understand its implications. How did I come to be granted this simple, yet elaborate, sensation? What has it done to me? And what has it taken from me?
Is it the inability, now, to fully give of myself to another in both heart and soul? To be unable to be swathed completely by experiences and gut instincts? To be unable to risk myself in the face of possible love and happiness?
Or do I fear the possibility of gaining something meaningful, only to lose it again and be left alone or behind?
Do I fear the risk?

There is an emptiness inside of me that seems to burn and yet leaves a coldness. Frost pulsating throughout my entire being, an iciness that I want to shatter.

Nevertheless, I am still here.