the benefits of failure

It was a revelation that I had because I’ve – uhh – well I’ve been doing a lot of working out in the past year and a half and what I’ve learned is that if you’re doing an exercise to the point of failure, that means that you’re taking your body to the utmost limit. You’re getting the most out of your workout and I feel like you can apply that to a lot of things life. For instance if you’re like, writing a television show, or a movie let’s say. If you not sort of trying to be like, audaciously original in a way, saying “this could be laughably bad”, you’re never gonna create something amazing, and you’re never gonna go outside your safe zone. You know what I mean? So it’s sorta like you have to embrace the possibility of failure, you almost have to strive towards failure. You have to say “well, I’m probably not gonna be able to pull this off, but i’m gonna set the bar so high just to see how high I can jump.”

– Jack Ferry (Not Too Deep with Grace Helbig, Ep. 120)

the nest

It’s funny how you can have something and not realize it. How life can be falling apart, but you’re too busy collecting the pieces to see what’s throwing them at you.

January was a cold month. It was dark and nights were hardest. For the longest time I couldn’t move, I couldn’t think. Those were the days where i found myself crying when it didn’t make sense to cry. Sleeping when the sun was brightest and sad when the world told me to be happy. This was when i decided to dedicate myself to work, to deep dive into my brain and never surface again. My mind was my company, it was my best friend and greatest enemy. It told me that everything was okay as it lead me to a dark and quiet place within my skull. I had only seen this place once before, but time had past and a layer of dust blanketed every surface. I stayed there and never moved much.

Six months later I left that dark place. I saw light and people, color and interest. Hand in hand, my mind and i took it step by step. It had been so long I had forgotten how to carry myself. Back again in the dark, 5 months later, I see now that the world is very dull within this place. I can still smile, still breath, but everything feels dim and distant. My mind tugs constantly, beckoning me into a restless lull. In the nest where everything is heavy and unreachable.

Even when I do manage to walk out of this place I know that it’s still there. Something so dark and ugly exists within my brain and i can’t help but wonder if i have the strength to ever make it leave, or rather the strength to never return.

depression’s nest

a wednesday night in july

I wonder, are we all crying together on this warm wednesday night in July? Damp pillows and achy brains weigh our heads so heavy they sinks through cotton and wool. Do we all struggle to stand? Twisted in vertigo and dehydration, a crippling hangover that never goes away. I watch as the sun escapes over the edge of the world and believe it’s left us forever. That it will decide the grass really is greener on the other side, why would it every return in the east at dawn? I struggle to reach for the lamp in the dark. Meters feel like miles and limbs feel like rocks. Are our voices flat and hands numb from screaming at the sky in hopes of someone hearing?

I beg for something to tell me the heavens are heavy too, that tears don’t just fall from eyes and the whole earth is drowning with us.