For a while now, I have been haunted by the superfluity of my existence
Of late, my mind has become weary from all the years of displaying resilience
I keep searching and am struggling to find a way out of what feels like a runnel
It is fading, the belief that there is a glimmer of light at the end of this dark tunnel
At this point, I no longer find inspiration in loved ones or ambitions I had
For so long, love received and goals set have worked to keep me motivated
Sadly, that only got me to this place of feeling emotionally depleted
My days seem to have become mere obstacles that must be overcome
The pain – even as I quit smoking – I still do whatever it takes to numb
I pretend to be jovial, I pretend to be interested, I pretend to be present
But, could it be that through all this, I may not be pretending to be “OK” after all?
Could it be I am trying to give myself a break and move away from this dark pall?
I talk openly about my struggles for I don’t want to bottle my pain so dire
I talk because a part of me wishes someone might help me out of this mire
Probably as an effort to help me feel better, I am told that we are all “not OK”
It could be an effort to deter me from burdening others or expecting any aid
As just another solution I’ve thought of, “go for therapy”, some folks have said
Sadly, access to (queer-friendly) mental healthcare services is a privilege
Not many of us seem to understand this as though it were a cryptic adage
Still, some folks understand my pain and that is all I can appreciate
It has taken some time but, now, I embrace the stomach-churning revelation
I ought to be to self the person I hope will offer emotional support and inspiration
Still, I find it all tiring and when night comes, I wish I would sleep everlastingly
I have had to learn to manage panic attacks which often overwhelm me agonizingly
Oftentimes, I find myself convincing self to get out of bed in the morning
On many instances, before leaving the house, I make sure to give myself a pep- talk
Other times, I wait until the coast is clear before, out of my room, I can walk
Through all the struggling, I find myself wondering, what is the point of it all?
What is the point of being alive? On me existential questions as these take their toll
Death does seem like a pacifying escape from what seems to be meaningless
But, before I eventually die, regardless of cause, how I yearn to just live.
– Joyline Maenzanise
Joyline is a contributing writer at On The Line, a South African publication. Some of her published work can be viewed here: Stories by Joyline Maenzanise : Contently
Image by Brian Minear Photography