What makes me come alive

Hello, gentle readership! My brain feels like cement and my limbs hardly obey me, but more about that later. I’m sure you’re DYING to know about my FASCINATING tale of adventure.

I searched for “adventure” in a free image website. The result concerns me.

I had my graduation ceremony, which, actually, was helpful. The happiness and hope, instead of making me resentful (I’m usually a contrary bitch), made me hopeful and happy too. Not only did the energy of my fellow graduates make me feel less than suicidal, but one speaker did as well. She said, “Ask not what does the world needs more of, but what makes you come alive. Because what the world needs are more people who come alive.”

I was thinking it too.

It suck with me, not only because it reminded me of the undead,  but because I’m not sure what makes me come alive.  Because I’ve noticed my depression or whatever you want to call it has left me kind of numb. The things that made me happy or content no longer release the same feelings. But I think I may have some ideas for what may make me come alive when I get out of this slump. The first one is obvious: love.

If I wasn’t trying to be optimistic right now, I’d comment how those sentimental bastards should plunge their smug hands into the core of the sun.

There are few things that bring me more joy than talking to my lover (yes, I know it’s a weird word but this is my corner of the internet). And though my tolerance for people has plummeted since I’ve begun feeling suicidal, my friends and family are also really invaluable. I don’t appreciate them nearly as much as I should.

The other two things I’m not as sure about, but lets go off on a limb: drawing and writing. I’m not sure if drawing “makes me come alive,” but it helps take the pain and even the numbness away. I don’t draw anything particularly violent or depressing, and maybe that’s why. I can ignore all my problems when I have a pen in my hand. As for writing, that’s a bit longer story.

Well, not that long.

I have a complicated on and off again relationship with the written word. Because I don’t want to bust out a “Game of Thrones” on your ass, I’ll just begin with this morning. When I woke up today, two hours after the butt crack of noon, I couldn’t move. It wasn’t like I had worked out the day before, or I was really sleepy (I’d gotten ten hours), but I actually couldn’t force myself to move. I kept trying to move my hands and my arms, trying to think of reasons to get up, but none of them would make my body move. It was like my mind was trying to be helpful, but my body knew I had nothing to live for.

And then I thought of a topic for this blog. And I got up.

I’m not sure if that qualifies for “making me come alive” but giving me the ability to dictate my own limbs is a pretty good start.  I have to keep living to get out of this funk and really figure out what makes me come alive. I have to find more reasons to get up.

Well, that’s it for today, ladies and gentlemen. I get my images from stock images websites, so click on the photos to check out the artists. Until next time.