I write down what bothers me, and want to share it.
But then I think no one can help, or no one cares, so why bother?
So it stays inside, and eats me up. But I want to let it all out.
But I can't, because I'm so certain I can't be helped by anyone.
I'm tired; I've seen this cycle for far too long, and know it too well.
If I could think of how I could be helped, I'd be fine. But I don't know how to be helped.
Headed to rock bottom, slowly but surely.
Sunday, November 17, 2013
Friday, November 8, 2013
Mood Swings
Today, I had happy moments. I had sad moments. I had moments when I felt legitimately okay, and moments when I really wasn't sure I was going to make it.
Life was beautiful, and life was out to get me. Or I'm out to get me.
Life is beautiful, but I'm not always sure I can keep up with it.
Sometimes I enjoy experiences. Random experiences.
Driving home from the train station, to drop my sister off before I head off to work. The sun is setting, the western sky is overcast. KRCL on the radio, playing The Black Keys, So He Won't Break. I remember the time, well enough, to be able to look these things up. But what I remember is changing into the left lane, and the way the light hits the street and the trees. Diffused; blue, with hints of golden. maybe the leaves, maybe the subliminal hues from the setting sun. Feeling, like I was happy. Because life, is beautiful.
Fast forward, and I couldn't tell you what was on the radio. Still KRCL, but I'm unfocued, not really paying attention. I'm too concerned about finding another job, as i turn on the frontage road to get to my current job. The sun has set, and the clouds are moving in. I suppose its beautiful, i've seen it before. But I can't remember the experience. All I remember is the anxiety. The stress, the small little bit of panic, that maybe, I'm not going to make it. I reflect upon it now, and think, maybe I won't make it. Maybe if I break down, I'll be able to pick it all up again and fix whatever is wrong. But if I break down, what then? I don't like to think about it, but maybe I'd feel better.
Earlier in the day, after I woke up from the strange dream, a vision of a sunny neighborhood, then a dark room full of hooded figures, then a severed hand being dipped in wax, the many voices saying, all at once, "We are all the witnesses to justice" as the wax drips off the hand. I know it to be a hand of glory. Anyway, weird dreams aside, after waking up and a telephone conversation, I got ready for the day. Reflecting upon aspects of the call, I told myself, "Lately, I don't feel the need to run away."
Right now, I wonder if maybe I do need to get away. Run away. Simplify everyone's life. Or maybe just mine.
Maybe that is why I need any job for right now; save money, then run away. A means to an end.
I don't want to think these things, but maybe I need to face the painful feelings before I can get better.
Or maybe there is no getting better.
I hate feeling trapped. I'm pretty much fucked.
Life was beautiful, and life was out to get me. Or I'm out to get me.
Life is beautiful, but I'm not always sure I can keep up with it.
Sometimes I enjoy experiences. Random experiences.
Driving home from the train station, to drop my sister off before I head off to work. The sun is setting, the western sky is overcast. KRCL on the radio, playing The Black Keys, So He Won't Break. I remember the time, well enough, to be able to look these things up. But what I remember is changing into the left lane, and the way the light hits the street and the trees. Diffused; blue, with hints of golden. maybe the leaves, maybe the subliminal hues from the setting sun. Feeling, like I was happy. Because life, is beautiful.
Fast forward, and I couldn't tell you what was on the radio. Still KRCL, but I'm unfocued, not really paying attention. I'm too concerned about finding another job, as i turn on the frontage road to get to my current job. The sun has set, and the clouds are moving in. I suppose its beautiful, i've seen it before. But I can't remember the experience. All I remember is the anxiety. The stress, the small little bit of panic, that maybe, I'm not going to make it. I reflect upon it now, and think, maybe I won't make it. Maybe if I break down, I'll be able to pick it all up again and fix whatever is wrong. But if I break down, what then? I don't like to think about it, but maybe I'd feel better.
Earlier in the day, after I woke up from the strange dream, a vision of a sunny neighborhood, then a dark room full of hooded figures, then a severed hand being dipped in wax, the many voices saying, all at once, "We are all the witnesses to justice" as the wax drips off the hand. I know it to be a hand of glory. Anyway, weird dreams aside, after waking up and a telephone conversation, I got ready for the day. Reflecting upon aspects of the call, I told myself, "Lately, I don't feel the need to run away."
Right now, I wonder if maybe I do need to get away. Run away. Simplify everyone's life. Or maybe just mine.
Maybe that is why I need any job for right now; save money, then run away. A means to an end.
I don't want to think these things, but maybe I need to face the painful feelings before I can get better.
Or maybe there is no getting better.
I hate feeling trapped. I'm pretty much fucked.
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