I have started this blog post in my mind 10 times now
but I don't know how to write it without it coming off
as a tirade of petty complaints. Just as with anything else
in my life, Halloween was a big "meh". It came and went
like every other week does. Then I will die, another life unlived.
I wake up wishing I didn't. I think about facing the world, life,
and my chest aches, my stomach tightens up, my head pounds.
You are unemployed, damaged, direction-less, worthless and fat.
Then I look around the house and pick out every single unclean
spot to confirm what a useless home-maker and girlfriend I am.
I just wrote three more paragraphs of what my day is like
but then I deleted them, because who wants to read that shit?
I wish I was a talented writer. I wish I was a talented designer.
I wish I had the energy to pursue anything, to care enough.
Life is emptiness and pain and pointlessness and hopelessness.
I cry and cry, I try yet another medication, I blog about
meaningless stuff, I tell my life story to yet another doctor.
How many is it now - 12, 13? Nothing ever changes.
Every now and again I can't take it anymore.
Guess what I do then? Nothing, that's what.
I get to watch what my pain does to the people who love me.
The pragmatic father bewildered. The sensitive mother
disappointed. The patient lover constantly worried.
And each one of them heart-broken. If you look closely
it's that towering boulder there on my right shoulder - guilt.
"There must be days when you feel a bit better?"
"But you are so full of energy/talented/intelligent/pretty/confident!"
"But you must be able to feel happiness at least sometimes?!"
Have we come full circle yet? I think so. I'm sorry,
I know this was a boring and depressing read.
Some of my new followers may be wondering
what the hell they stumbled in on. It's really nothing.