i really hate feeling depressed. that is the most logically true and obvious statement ever written. maybe.
i hate feeling desperate and naked and small. i tire of reminding myself this is temporary. i wonder if this is going to follow me forever. there's always something horribly wrong. not always. only in months ending in "er" and "y". there's something wrong and i tell myself that when that something wrong is over, when i don't live here anymore, when i'm not doing that anymore, i'll be perky again. i'll say witty things and people will crowd my facebook page with wall posts and send me handmade things and my metabolism will work again and i'll be able to sleep before 3 in the morning and i won't have reasons to dry heave myself to sleep after my body's too exhausted to cry.
but then another month ending in 'er' arrives, and despite the very reputable chinese astrologists who assure me this will be a great year for me, i am fighting through another day. i feel like i am clawing through sand to be able to get to the dessert. i am using awful analogies. my brain isn't working like i want it to. i have bursts of okay-ness, where i don't mind that his world didn't need me in it to keep spinning. it is a good thing i do not date often; every time it doesn't work out it feels like i'm spilt out onto the floor of the state fair.
Edit: It turns out that spilling things out onto the floor was a huge relief. Freedom is very un-depressing.
i hate feeling desperate and naked and small. i tire of reminding myself this is temporary. i wonder if this is going to follow me forever. there's always something horribly wrong. not always. only in months ending in "er" and "y". there's something wrong and i tell myself that when that something wrong is over, when i don't live here anymore, when i'm not doing that anymore, i'll be perky again. i'll say witty things and people will crowd my facebook page with wall posts and send me handmade things and my metabolism will work again and i'll be able to sleep before 3 in the morning and i won't have reasons to dry heave myself to sleep after my body's too exhausted to cry.
but then another month ending in 'er' arrives, and despite the very reputable chinese astrologists who assure me this will be a great year for me, i am fighting through another day. i feel like i am clawing through sand to be able to get to the dessert. i am using awful analogies. my brain isn't working like i want it to. i have bursts of okay-ness, where i don't mind that his world didn't need me in it to keep spinning. it is a good thing i do not date often; every time it doesn't work out it feels like i'm spilt out onto the floor of the state fair.
Edit: It turns out that spilling things out onto the floor was a huge relief. Freedom is very un-depressing.
Labels: Relationships
posted by slickaphonic at 10:36 AM
2 Comments:
oh god. I stopped checking your blog when you stopped writing. You and Jolie Laide. She's been by my place recently and I discovered you both have been putting words up again.
I'm sorry for this that you had to write. I know that place. I know how it returns.
I've missed you both. My own space has been taken over by the 100 words because it became expected, and now it's no longer my place really. I've thought about starting another blog. A super secret blog where I can write again. How ridiculous is that?
"reunited and it feels so good."
hello again!
this is a mostly super secret blog. it is not ridiculous at all.
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