i'd have to look to know the last time i was here, smacking down a few words to feel a sense of accomplishment. my thoughts have been all over the place and they are still not organized. i am trying to make order. get them running in a straight line. no easy task. as anyone who knows me can attest, my stories and thoughts can sometimes take a circuitous path. i love a good story. i love to tell a good story. i miss relating stories of bad dates and other experiences to my friends who hooted in laughter as i animatedly acted out the experience as much as i described it. man i miss that.
i feel as though i've been dropped on an island and without those few things i can't live without. no one is to blame for this sense of isolation. i talk to no one i see no one until the end of day when my man comes home hassled and spent from his toiling. every day alone in my apartment i struggle to work up the enthusiasm to get what's needing done completed. i send out chirpy sounding cover letters with my resumes that are apparently zooming off into the ether. the sense of futility is staggering.
i'm in the pit of the biggest depression i've ever been in. i know the only way to combat it is to pull myself out, but i can't see the light so much. i act; throw up the facade to keep people from knowing, but i am also hiding. i don't lie when i say my favourite time is when i am asleep in my bed. when i can sleep. i toss and i turn, reviewing all the things i should have done, could have done, to avoid ending up in this place. i have thrown every piece of my life under the microscope for a closer view. it's not helping. for a time i stopped going to facebook, stopped updating my status. what was i going to say? that i was even more fucking miserable than i was yesterday? i've been taking the antidepressives for a month now, and i am not seeing much of a result except that i am now constantly hovering in a bland, nauseated brand of a different misery. my limbs are heavy, muscles weak and my head feels disconnected from everything as if someone has chopped me up and reassembled me with it suspended close enough to feel as if it is still part of my body, but not quite.
it seems i didn't bounce this time when things went for shit. just hit in one giant splat. oh, it was different in the early halcyon days of the brilliant summer sun. that was when my optimism buoyed me and i had little debt and money in the bank to boot. now i feel like balance of my bank account. a big fat zero.
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