The Memory of Light

You are not the clouds or even the blue sky where clouds live. You are the sun behind them, giving light to all, and the sun is made up of goodness and kindness and light.

You say that as if pretending were a sin. We all do that kind of pretending to survive ... Some pretending is necessary and even good. We can tolerate all the pretending we need to do if we have some islands of honesty in our lives. Places where we don't lie to others. Most of all, places where we don't lie to ourselves.

...pain that is not acknowledged, talked about, shared even, doesn't ever go away. It hides for awhile and then comes back in a different form.

There is pain in the body or the heart or the soul or the mind or all of the above. Body pain is obvious. Heart pain is the pain that comes from others, when they love you too much or not enough or the wrong way. Soul pain comes from feel your life is one big waste. Mind pain is what I can't figure out. It's like when you throw body, heart, and soul pain into a blender, then you add a cup of disgust at all that you are, at all that you've become, at all that you will ever be.

There's two of me. The person I carry around like a dead carcass inside of me and the one I show to others.

You hardly see me in the sun, My sparkle's in the stars. When all is dark around you, I'm the memory of light. I'm not the fruit of summer. I'm not the blooming rose. I live in roots of trees And in the seeds of love. When all is lost around you, When life's last dream is gone, I'll be the breath you breathe, The next step that you take.

But all I can feel right now is that someone turned on a light just long enough for me to see what I could never have, so that it would hurt me even more than if I had never seen it.

Can you hope for hope?

Thoughts are clouds, Vicky. They are not you. The cloud of wanting to die appears, and if you don't grab it, it will eventually float away. The cloud that says I'm lazy and a coward and a phony to boot floats before you, and you can calmly watch it come and go. You are not the clouds or even the blue sky where clouds live. You are the sun behind them, giving light to all, and the sun is made up of goodness and kindness and life.

What's better? To hurt from your want or to be so dead inside that you don't want anything? I don't want anything.

It's hard to accept that depression is an illness, that moping around from day to day with no will for so many years is not my fault.

It's a sadness that has been knocking at my door for a long time, and I finally let it in.

Mona says that talking heals, but at times like this, I think that just being next to someone who likes you is all anybody ever needs.

The rocks are everywhere. You have to dig around them without getting pissed at them. I expect the rocks to be there. Sometimes I think they're put there on purpose so I can learn not to be angry about them.

There are two different questions: Do you want to die? and Do you want to live? But in the darkness of my mind, not wanting to live and wanting to die don't seem like two things you can pull apart. They're wrapped up in the no more that I feel right now.

Happiness had knocked on my door, and I opened it long enough to see that I didn't want what was being offered.

I'm sick of faking strong.

Is there any way to avoid the emptiness of people's absence?

You shouldn't talk to people about the future if you don't believe in one for yourself.

Huichi is about being brave. About not being defeated by anybody or anything. Rising up every day and doing what you gotta do. Shining your light so that people and things around you can live. The fight is hard, else you wouldn't need to be brae. It's all caliche, so what's the use whining about it? The rocks are everywhere. You have to dig around them without getting pissed at them. I expect the rocks to be there. Sometimes I think they're put there on purpose so I can learn not to be angry about them.

Doesn't it always boil down to pain?

The words are being forced out by a presence so weak and new I didn't even know it was there.

I don't want anything. I simply don't want.

But to like your life, you're going to need more than medication.

My father looks at me the way he is looking at my mother in one of their wedding pictures: like he can't believe that she is with him now and will be with him forever, that she has chosen to be with him out of all the men in the known world.

I think for a few moments. Sometimes I think that the reason I'm not ambitious and I don't care about what my family cares about is that I'm lazy and....not all that smart. Dr. Desai gives me one of those get serious looks.

It’s like what flight attendants tell you about the oxygen masks that plop down in an emergency: First you put yours on, and then you put it on the child next to you.” She

the images get hazy, but just seeing a few months into the future feels like a small miracle. I

think that just being next to someone who likes you is all anybody ever needs.

You say that as if pretending were a big sin. We all do that kind of pretending to survive, Vicky. Some pretending is necessary and even good. We can tolerate all the pretending we need to do if we have some...islands of honesty in our lives. Places where we don't lie to others. Most of all, places where we don't lie to ourselves.