Human Wreckage
September 14, 2021 (-) / 8:08 a.m. / I do not want to go to work. I do not want to go outside. I do not want this.
Yesterday I went to bed at five in the afternoon and woke up around ten p.m. That’s when I messaged S_R and told him that I’ve began taking new medication.
“Are the pills working?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I answered. “I just started.”
I confessed to S_R that what I need is a lot of rest, and I told J_V and BVR this as well. BVR worries about me when I get like this. He always does.
“I don’t like it when my friends are depressed,” BVR told me.
I appreciate their concern.
2:16 p.m.
I helped two students today in the writing lab, and later talked to D_F and A_R about their students progress. I also told A_R to read The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie, one of my favorite books.
Now I’m alone, and with no students or instructors around, I can let my smile drain away.
I don’t want to eat, though I had two donuts, complimentary of the leftover September 11th memorial service in the gym the day before. And to be frank, I don’t really care about washing. All I want to do is black out, which is probably what I’ll do later. Because pretending to be a lively, happy person when you’re really a pile of human wreckage and shit can be emotionally and physically taxing.
I just fail to see a point. You can tell me all day the meaning of life, but when the world is a slab of concrete, the words do not register.
8:02 p.m.
I’m in bed, listening to strangers on Twitter converse in an online space. Part of me wants to sleep, but I don’t think I can. (Ever been so depressed you can’t sleep?)
9:43 p.m.
I made myself take a shower, because I decided to not go to bed smelling bad. I also think I’m going to stay up watch Impeachment: American Crime Story. Beats falling into a manic slumber, I guess.
I have to drive to Raleigh tomorrow for my therapy appointment at one p.m., and then I come back to my hometown to negotiate an apartment. What I really want to do is give S_R a platonic massage (mmm). He deserves it, honestly, and my original plan was to go over to his place, had the land lady not called me. Then again, maybe it’s for the best. I don’t want to be around him when I’m like this.
10:40 p.m.
I’m watching my show. I’m enjoying it, but I feel so, so out of it. Just me and a bag of Doritos. Fun.
Song/mood: “Plowed” by Sponge
