Measure of Mindfulness

The measure of our mindfulness, the touchstone for sanity in this society, is our level of productivity and our attention to responsibility. If you're still at the point when you're even just barely going through the motions (i.e. showing up at school, making small talk) you are still okay or okay enough. But you're not, and a desire not to acknowledge depression in ourselves or those close to us- better known these days as denial- is such a strong urge that plenty of people prefer to think that until you're actually flying out of a window, you don't have a problem.

I can't quite shake this feeling that we live in a world gone wrong, that there are all these feelings that you're not supposed to have because there's no reason to have them anymore. But they're still there, stuck somewhere, a flaw that evolution hasn't managed to eliminate yet, like tonsils or an appendix. I wonder if anything will work or if there is no drink, no drug, no pill, no potion, no serum, no shot, nothing under the whole black sun that can possibly penetrate a pain so deep. There must be something, some very strong hand with a very tight grip that can turn off the way I feel.