WHAT’S THE POINT?

https://www.facebook.com/james.gould.754/videos/10160051134860828/

IMPORTANT, re the following poem, it does NOT reflect how I feel NOW!

PLEASE DO NOT BE CONCERNED!

I nearly didn’t post it, so sensitive is the subject of suicide, and I know that it’ll concern a lot of people but, please, do take note of the positive attitude in the second half of the poem.

I think it’s important, in raising awareness of mental illness, that I share ALL of my mental health experiences and if my sharing my very darkest of thoughts helps to provide clarity for those who don’t understand it, and if my doing so helps sufferers become aware that they are not alone, it’ll have been worth this posting.

PLEASE DON’T JUDGE ME HARSHLY! REMEMBER THE CONTEXT OF THESE FEELINGS AND THOUGHTS, TAKE INTO ACCOUNT THE FACT THAT THEY ARE THE FEELINGS AND THOUGHTS OF SOMEONE WHO IS NOT THINKING RATIONALLY!

‘WHAT’S THE POINT?

A bad depression episode,

code from brain to body,

this person is shoddy,

make him feel like that,

make him feel flat!

Flat is how I feel,

I wish I could steel something from last week

when I felt good,

when I was a happy dude.

If I was to disappear today,

who would suffer,

who’s life would be tougher?

What is my purpose in life,

what is my role?

I look to my soul for an answer,

even just a clue,

what am I supposed to do?

If it’s to bring my kids into the world,

to procreate,

that state has been achieved,

done,

and I do say it out loud,

I am proud of them.

But I’m so tired,

mired in exhaustion, and this is a different kid of tired,

I mean really, really tired,

shvacht, haroog,

is that understood?

There’s nothing there, finished, wiped out,

got nought left!

I don’t see the point any more,

what is the point of staying,

of remaining,

and just getting more and more tired,

more and more mired in that exhaustion?

I know that as long as the children have their mum,

they’d be fine,

they’d survive,

they’d thrive.

Yaf matters,

and that’s not just flattery,

she does, I don’t,

I bring nothing to the table,

I serve no purpose,

maybe just to entertain people,

to be the circus clown,

but under the smile there’s a frown.

Most of the time you don’t see ME,

I’m performing,

morning, afternoon and night,

but, again I tell you, and it is so true,

I am tired!

If, suddenly, I didn’t exist,

there’d be some sadness but the Earth would continue to turn on it’s axis.

The sadness wouldn’t be for me,

it would be for others.

That seems to be the only reason to stay,

what’s keeping me here,

so that other people don’t cry,

aren’t sad,

but what about me,

don’t I matter?Don’t flatter me, it’s just a rhetorical question.

Meanwhile, I just run the clock down,

playing the crowd,

amusing people, family, friends to the end.

Is everyone happy for me to pay the price,

to be tired, exhausted, sticking around,

staying on this ground,

so that I can amuse them?

Isn’t that abusing me, making me stay?

I know what you’ll say,

“Stay because you inspire, help, lift, encourage…”

I’ve done as much as I can,

I want to retire,

not wait until I naturally expire,

I need to rest, lest I implode, erode.

I’m not talking in code,

I’m telling you how it is,

I’m talking and thinking rationally,

depressed but mentally clear,

I want you all to hear the words

of someone with this frame of mind.

I do feel gratitude,

that attitude is intact,

but I think I’ve done my job,

I’ve procreated,

my genes are in the pool,

I followed Darwin’s rule,

but they aren’t kids any more

– well, one is still in school.

And all I’m doing is watching

from the side lines,

the family is mine

but I feel surplus to requirements,

I am certain that I am a burden,

carried by Yaf, the children and my parents,

I should make their lives easier but I don’t

and I know that I won’t, ever!

I just don’t have any positive input

and that is at the root of my questioning.

I see it as rational,

my wanting to rest, to sleep,

my feeling that I’ve had enough,

all that stuff,

but I won’t do it, it’s ok, don’t worry,

I won’t put you into a spin,

I’ll keep the grin on my face,

I’ll remain part of the human race,

the show will go on…

I get nothing out of it any more.

These feelings are raw,

I sit, stare, feeling empty,

no guilt or shame in writing this poem.

It’s not a game,

this is really how I feel.

Please, no sympathy,

no platitudes,

not that attitude.

Please, no “I love you”s,“You are amazing, special, you have a gift…”,

that’s a load of, um…., rubbish,

I don’t have a gift!

Oh, this will pass, I’ll recover,

please, don’t smother me with love posts,

no private message love notes!

Let me be and you will see,

I’ll bounce back,

but it’ll just be a matter of time

till I drop again and feel the same.

I’m not here for me,

I’m here for you,

and that entails me stewing in my thoughts of

pointlessness, uselessness and hopelessness:

what a mess!

BUT I hear those voices in my head,

voices telling me that I have choices,

and I know these depression bouts,

I know what they’re all about,

I know that they lift,

that I’ll just have to drift for a few days,

that the sun’s rays will break through the clouds,

that I’ll be happy again to be in the crowds,

that life is, for everyone, a rollercoaster,

and that mosta the time, I do feel fine,

I can see what I’ve got,

the rot does stop.

And it’s on that verse that I’ll lay my hat of hope,

I won’t mope for much longer,

soon, I’ll feel stronger,

I’ll see the light and I’ll feel alright.’

Koby

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