the word just came to mind while meandering about my laptop. the french word ramasser. i love the way it sounds. perfect for constant repetition. rammaser! rammaser! a strong “ra”, followed by a hammering “ma”, and a swishing end with “sseh.” i forget what it means, as it often happens when a foreign word comes to mind. the sound. le son. i just like the sound.
ramasser means to pick up, or to gather. a small reminder that maybe it’s time to pick myself up. gather my bearings. stop being a mess.
***
am i a mess, or am i just alive?
philosopher byung chul han writes:
“The complaint of the depressive individual, “Nothing is possible,” can only occur in a society that thinks, “Nothing is impossible.” No-longer-being-able-to-be-able leads to destructive self-reproach and auto-aggression. The achievement-subject finds itself fighting with itself. The depressive has been wounded by internalized war. Depression is the sickness of a society that suffers from excessive positivity. It reflects a humanity waging war on itself.” (burnout society)
***
it’s one of those days when i feel like i am wading through molasses while my brain is following the muffled beat of the macarena up top.
the day before, my french teacher inquires about my mental situation. “you said last week that you were in a depressive episode, is it better at least?” he asked. “oh. yeah. you’re right.” i almost forgot. i had such a busy week from then until now, i stopped missing the signs. the inability to do anything apart from get out of bed, work, scroll. can’t surmise enough attention to properly watch a movie. missing things. being unable to think ahead, to make plans. but i promise, the thing is. i make plans and never follow through.
***
follow through is one smooth motion. “don’t drop balls,” they warn me. but to pick something up you have to allow them to drop.
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