The Legion, otherwise known as Keeping the voices at bay....

21:16

It occurs to me that I post a lot of entries everyday. Maybe because writing is more natural to me. But possibly more so because the Legion demands the attention. No...that's not it. The truth is I love to write. It calms me, it infuriates me. No matter the emotion, it makes me feel. And sometimes in this world, just feeling can be a precious commodity.

I remember when I was about 15, and heavy into the depression, just feeling anything would have been a blessing. I felt little back then. I was good at pretending though. Few of my friends, teachers or family ever realised how bad it had gotten. By the end of that year I had tried to kill myself. And only two people knew anything of it. I was very good at hiding things.

I got past it, the depression, slowly and at great cost. I was lucky to have help in the form of a dear man who guided me back onto the path I had lost sight of. He was a shrink, that dreaded breed of doctors that I have long-despised. But I felt no hatred for him. He was different. So different in his views and theories that his own collegues looked down on him and viewed him as a nut. Ironic that. A man in his profession thought a nut by his own peers. But it was his differences that helped me to overcome my depression.

I'll never foget him. Or Bruce. Bruce, my friend, the first man I ever loved. He was such a special man. And depsite being several years older than me, we were close friends. He was the one who kept me from killing myself that first time. "Too much to live for", he said. Not likely, I thought. But he was right. And everyday I think of him and pray that his spirit is finally at peace. And I pray that somehow he knows how very much he meant to me, as I never got to tell him and now it's too late.

So yeah, I write a lot. It's my therapy in a way. Though the depression is gone, only making an appearance briefly now and then, I continue to write. Keeps me feeling. And as I said, just feeling is a precious commodity for a person that spent so long just pretending.