The symptoms of August
One of the things that never truly faded was writing. In sadness and happiness, writing was a consistent throughout my years, something to come home to. It is a way for me to rationalize and take apart the feelings inside of me, it is to understand the world and the choices it makes.
I must admit in the last weeks there has been a great sadness inside of me. Years ago I got diagnosed with a depression disorder and it's a been hurdle in life ever since. Most accurately, it's a persistent depression but less depressive. Although, once in a while there will be a week or a month where it feels like I'm walking around with a backpack full of stones, my shoes filled with water and my lungs unable to function.
When there is an overabundance of an emotion in my life, there is a reason to write.
A wednesday evening in the summer.
There is no rhyme or reason to when my poems come in English or Dutch, the moment decides for itself. This poem was written whilst I walked upwards towards my house after a long shift at work. For me this poem is about the soltitude that can be found in the routines of the day, which for me is walking or biking up this particular hill. It's the feeling of emptiness and loneliness that comes after a long day of work, where one is surrounded by many people. To keep up a certain energy and maintain politeness and kindness, which falls off in the face of the moonlight. But also, the dread of doing it again the next day. Of wanting to melt into the pavement, lie there for a little bit and change the routine.
It bellows, roars and rages.
Another poem driven by emotion, this one is different than the others though. As anger is not usually one of the emotions I entertain for any works of mine, it's a repressed emotion. I do not spew with anger like a volcano would, or cry out of pure rage. When my anger is there, it is a very silent show. On the day this was written a lot of things plagued me that made me quite upset and angry, after a while off chewing on these emotions it dissipated almost completely. At the end of it all, am I just a coward for not getting angry at these things? Am I a coward for not saying anything if it makes me furious?
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