The illness

I don’t like this feeling but I don’t think anybody would. Over the past week or so we have seen celebrities commit suicide. One in particular struck me harder and that was Anthony Bourdain. I’ve read all his books, watched all his shows and even went as far as to visit all the spots he went to from an old No reservation episode on Istanbul. I’ve visited his old restaurant Les Halles to try and feel the essence that was Bourdain.

Now I find myself in a depressive funk that has lasted for years but my ideations of suicide increase with the days and increase with the pills I take. Finding myself feeling more relatable to those that have since past. Trying my hardest to not join them but I find it harder and harder.

Tear by tear, breathe by breathe, sleep by sleep and the feelings grow stronger. Now I’m in the cycle, breathe, medicate, cry, work, cry some more, sleep and repeat. Seek help but I feel numb, just numb enough to hold on for another day.

I speak out loud and I crying in hiding but the feelings stay. Hoping and praying for another day and hoping that the illness doesn’t take me where I lay.

I also want to add a note for anybody that doesn’t think depression or anxiety is an illness……….. It is an illness that takes every ounce of me to stay alive with it. There’s a chemical imbalance that I can no longer fight on my own. Call me weak, call me whatever you want but have mercy on the next person you see suffering from it.

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