Month: February 2017

I Didn’t Speak at All Today

All damn day today, I sat in that chair in my bedroom and read and drank half a pot of cheap Target brand coffee while Whiskeytown radio played on Spotify. I took a break twice to masturbate and then I crept onto Krissy’s Facebook page. She’s currently on a ski trip in Colorado with husband and two kids. I could never afford to have given her the kids or the ski trip, so I read in my Goodwill chair while she wintered in Colorado. And I didn’t speak to anyone today. Last week was days of sadness filling my head, not specific sad thoughts, just a fog of sadness between my ears without any explanation. I don’t know what is worse: the sadness in my head or depression, which is the absence of any feeling at all, even sadness. In my worst episodes of depression I wished for some sense of feeling, even sadness, but it was just indifference to any and all things.

That chair was for so long un-used in my apartment. It was a catch-all for my unopened mail and girls would put their coats on it, which I liked because it left the chair smelling like perfume. I had sex on it once years ago, but I decided to take advantage of the natural light in my bedroom so I moved it. I think I’ll get drunk in it next weekend.

Fearing the Fall

Some co-workers passed on happy hour last Thursday, saying they were tired and they probably were. I needed some drinks more than anything at that moment, but I passed because three beers honestly meant I wouldn’t have money for lunch the next day. And driving home Friday, I hesitated . . . dreaded even, returning to the solitude and do-nothing-all day of my life for an entire weekend. I don’t even like the way I write sometimes, especially as of late. It’s un-directed and self-doubting, mirroring the thoughts in my head.

The winter wind-chills and skies the color of ash has me fearing depression again. Looking down into that pit with my feet hanging ten over the loose dirt edge. All the experience of having been down there before and all the knowledge of never wanting to return.