Not even depression is what it used to be



Saying that all is a lie doesn’t necessarily make you a nihilist. On the contrary, there’s something empowering in being able to feel brave enough to put the finger on everything, seeing things as they present themselves, euphemistic versions of what is actually never clean enough, bold enough, ironed happy neat perfect enough. Then you can start building , “here where we’re standing right now, in the ruins in the dark”, as Palahniuk said it.

I never understood what God stands for in Keren Ann’s song and I never will, most likely.

I miss reading Dodds. His texts were the first ones I would ever read as a student in Bucharest. I remember sharing the tiniest room with two other girls, them sleeping and me reading, struggling to understand, taking endless notes, engaging in conversations on an empty stomach, developing a strong relationship with the coffee machine at school, never forgetting the extra readings, impressing teachers and taking myself by surprise, writing full sentences that could be read out loud without the need for blushing.

Not even depression is what it used to be and I feel strangely calm about it.

I keep listening to Keren Ann’s song while I reminisce and there are no tears crawling down my cheeks.

My body isn’t what it used to be as well.

The pain keeps you busy from thinking of the real problems, a friend of mine articulated it yesterday.

I’m not sure what was hurt first – my body or my psyche and I’m not in the mood of thinking about the  mind-body problem.

I feel a light sadness accompanied by a light sore in my stomach.

Thou shalt always state clearly and honestly what you are going through.

Thou shalt never hope.

Thou shalt keep carrying the stone, because, as my mother put it so wonderfully heartbreaking:

It’s about what happens while Sisyphus is carrying the stone on his way to the top of the mountain.

Back in my first year in Bucharest depression would always end up dancing with endless glasses of wine, hitting its head against the worst hangovers one could get from treating their feelings as an amusement park.

I don’t ride Feriss wheels anymore.

I jump on horses though, I ride them confidently because they are free and alive and they always go fast and straight ahead.

pictures by Ionut with whom  I ride the wildest horses, the black ones and the white ones

Later edit : my wonderful friend Matilda associated an older drawing of hers with my words

see her work here

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