limited tomorrows

i've reached a point where i'm beginning to worry about myself.

i think i'm in trouble, and this is really the only release i have, the only place where i can get this out as it sits inside me.  believe me, i wish that wasn't true.  i wish i had someone other than Lonnie that i could drop all this on, but i can't even get it out coherently, not linear anyway.  and without that, most people can't even understand what i'm trying to say.  so i'm going to try to write it out here, and hope that maybe my sleep will bring understanding that i can wake to.

today was hard to get started.  nevermind all the details that i usually list here; i couldn't get out of the bed.  i saw no reason to.  it is cold, my bedroom was cold, and the world is cold.  i lay in bed, thinking about her, thinking about what i should write.  that was my thought yesterday; i need to just write this all out in a letter, tell her what i am feeling and say good bye.  it sounds good, until it gets to the paper. how strange is that?  then it becomes masturbation, an exercise in self-flagellation, or in subtle and veiled attacks.  is that all we are?  is that all we were?

so getting started was rough as fuck.  and i had to force myself from the bed, because it was not going to happen otherwise.  and i went to my parent's house, and i could see that it is very evident because not only could my mother see that i was troubled, she actually backed away without me having to ask her to.  we talked, i visited for a bit.  but i couldn't settle in myself.  everything seems like a good bye right now.

i went to the stores, Walmart and Aldi's, and i got some things for the house.  i stopped at the food truck and got some lunch as i hadn't eaten breakfast, just didn't feel like it.  then i came home.  i unloaded bags and put stuff away, i laid down and took a nap.  first, i actually did try to write the letter, but it is something stuck in my head, because there is no vomiting this emotion out to Rachel.  it is to no avail.  if she wanted to be with me, she'd have come to me, or she would, or she will.  i will not attempt to coerce, convince or cajole.  so i threw the letter away, the few words i managed.  it is a good idea; just a bad time for it.

Lonnie came by and tried to get my keyboard hooked up, but it's really not compatible with my system.  that makes me sad, but in a way i don't even care.  i'm not working on anything and don't feel it stirring even.  he left and i had half a sandwich, a bowl of soup and some chips.  i had some peach pie and ice cream.  i cleaned the dishes, i took the trash to the can and the can to the curb.  and i'm on my bed, spinning slots on Facebook, marking time.  nowhere to go; nothing to do; no one calls, no one comes, no one to care for and no one cares.  and that's not accurate, but that's how it feels.

thing is, this depression has been with me for months now.  it is relentless, undiminished and dimensionally growing.  and...this is not even my bad season yet.  that comes next month.  i don't feel like doing anything at all.  i feel as if maybe i'm wasting time in the world.  my heart hurts, my mind is like a child with focus problems, and i long for a touch that will not come.  i feel as if my whole purpose has been compromised.  and this is not even my bad month yet.  what do i do?  how do i get out of this one?  i pray every day;  i keep it moving as best as i can.  but i am alone.  i'll go to sleep speaking to no one.  i'll wake up to the cold of this bed and the emptiness of this house, alone for another day.

i don't know.  i don't feel as if i'm grateful today.  i don't feel like i have anything to be grateful about.  and that's bullshit, i KNOW, but that's how it FEELS, is what i'm saying.

and what happens when November comes in?  i get through it, or have gotten through it, by intensifying my work and staying focused on creating, building.  but i can't create.  i can't write.  i can only miss Rachel.  it's funny.  i never even wanted her to cohabit.  i'd be alone either way.  but i'd have a tomorrow perhaps i could look forward to.  but that's illusory as well.  you can't look at the road ahead as endless if there's a wall constantly coming closer.

i'm going to try to sleep.  i'm going to my meeting tomorrow.  maybe i'll get something out of it.  but i'll only know when i get to the other side.  that's true of so many things.