It never felt quite so real until I found out I was “clinically depressed” and it completely makes sense. The first bout lasted for the final eight months of 2017, but this one is different.
For four weeks, I’ve been numb. I drink on the weekends and make people laugh at the bar. I forget not, that my feeling don’t work, but I persist in letting others know I appreciate that they exist. They are my friends, I think… at least that’s what Facebook says.
And it just sucks that I can’t love, but I also get to laugh when people throw hate my way: A ten year old grudge took the air out of one of my tires last week.
I wonder if things will begin to click again.
I wonder if I will feel pain again.
I wonder how long my feeling will be taking this sabbatical.
I thought I was in love. Am I still?
I wonder if I’d prefer to be manic…
Extreme highs sound nice.
I’m low until the whiskey hits my lips.
I’m low when I wake up to my scripts.
🎼”I gotta…. I gotta find another way.
I’m ready to give.
But I don’t know if I’m a giver.”🎼