Time ticks by slowly inevitably moving closer and closer to the time of death. As clouds build up in the sky, first on the horizon then encroaching ever closer and closer, until all of the heavens are blotted out behind their threatening dark masses, waiting to open up and flood the earth below. Until everything that is and everything that was is washed away and all the is left is nothingness.
I find this feeling slowly fraying away at the edges of the tapestry that is my life of busy fullness. It seems to be ever increasing with the quite times, or the times where my mind gets to wounder bringing a bitter sweet edge to the moments of unadulterated joy that crop up during the day. It is a feeling that while insidious in it's nature is somehow also comforting, not because it is a fun feeling but because it is a familiar feeling one that I have know many times over, for very long times. It is like some kind of macabre comfort that despite the knowledge of what it forewarns, that of a period of darkness descending on my life and smothering it filling it in with all that is utterly miserable, the only question being how fare will it sink and for how long will it drag out. Yet somehow there seems to be a strange comfort with this all to unwelcome yet all to well know guest.
Maybe I am just broken to find a level of comfort in this state of being I knowing what it singles, and lord know that I would not be shocked to find out that I am fundamental broken, honestly to the contrary almost surprised to find out that I was not broken. I know that I have to let my psychiatrist know about this, but how do I explain that in some sort of way it is almost welcome, even though I know that I don't want what it harbors in those creeping clouds? What dose it mean that I feel this way about something that forewarns of something that has rained utter disrepair on my life in the past and that has been responsible to hart brake and emotional turmoil to those around me that I hold dearest? I honestly don't know.