I could be working. I just chose not to. The phones are quiet. Knock on wood. Snapchat is only so amusing. I can only send pictures of so many things that fit up my nose. The row of staples were challenging but not as hard as a highlighter. So I am back to the word on paper. Trying to come up with my brilliant idea that is going to save me from myself. I think maybe it’s as cut and dry as that. Maybe my words will save me themselves. Who knows. I just know there has to be purpose to the pain.
For lunch, I go visit my mother. She was actually more compassionate today then she usually is. I tell her I am depressed and have no energy. She actually tells me that it’s okay that I’ve had a lot going on for me. Whereas my oldest brother, whom you have not met, says to just snap out of it. He obviously doesn’t get depression. I try to explain it’s not like I want to shoot myself-it’s that I have no ambition to do the slightest of things. Even speaking seems to be troublesome. It almost pains me to have to staple papers together. How ridiculous. I told them I was writing letters to my new therapist. They just look at me odd and continue with the next conversation.
I go to Holiday gas station and find myself smiling. Feeling a slight bit of happiness. Mainly because you are my secret. It’s thrilling for me. So that’s all that matters. I might bore you. I might entertain you. I might just annoy the hell out of you. But it gives me a glimmer of happiness so I thank you for that. I smile for my secret lover. It’s so cute I want to barf. I hate cuteness. I hate love and warming thoughts. I hate answering the phone to so never call me. I laugh. One sided conversations appeal to me. I crack myself up.
I used to have a friend named Casie, but she abandoned me. Sent me a snotty message about my dearly departed, Randall. It hurt my feelings, no lie. Believe it or not I am like the most sensitive person on the planet. Then almost immediately after her minimizing a man who was so important in my life to “that dead guy” my boss asks me how things were going and I end up crying all over his desk. Just repeating, “I’m depressed”. He offered to pay the fee for me to go get medication but he already knows how I feel about that. I don’t want to be medicated. I have tried that route and it is not worth the side effects or the potential of death from the increased depression. I had to assure him that I would be in tomorrow. I ain’t pulling my plug. I ain’t going out so easy. The gods are going to have one hell of a time getting me out of the game. The last two days I have been numb, now I can’t stop leaking. I am miserable. I don’t know what to do about it. “Fighting” with my friend is not very helpful at all.
In all honesty, right now, in this moment-I do want to die. To be vanquished. To just stop hurting. And yet what does that do? It just makes my daughter and family miserable. I don’t have life insurance so they would have to pay for my funeral. And someone would have to clean out my house and then the meaningless things I have collected all my life will go to the garbage or goodwill. It hardly seems fair that someone else is left to clean up my mess. Thoughts like this keeps me in the game. I don’t want to live another day. Not a single one. Not another minute. Is that selfish? Is that really selfish of me? Suicides are selfish. I can see it both ways. If I had life insurance maybe I wouldn’t be so selfish. If I had all my things already gone, I wouldn’t be so selfish. Of course, this is not what people are talking about. Fuck them though. They don’t know what the fuck they are talking about.
I might not even send this letter cause it sucks. Its miserable. Its rotten. Its not good news. Its shit. Its shittier than shit’s shit. I hate being stuck in my head with these depressing thoughts. Cause the sun will set and the sun will rise again and I will have lost my best friend because she was being an insensitive bitch. It’s not my fault she got fired for her shitty attendance at the bar. She is supposed to be supporting me not telling me things that seem rude and snotty. I appreciate her honesty as much as the next guy’s but there are some times where one should shut their damn mouth. She just minimized a man I loved who died to “that dead guy”. I’m sorry but that feels so insensitive to me. I don’t expect the world to pity me but I do expect a little compassion from my best friend. Who does this, who says this? I just don’t get it. I did nothing but ask for a little support and I get a slap in the face. I don’t handle this type of emotion well. I’m pathetic I know. Actually I am angry. I am so fucking angry I just want to scream at the top of my lungs and expel as much air from my body as I possibly can. I just want to shake the shit out of my friend and ask her why she is being so cruel.
Tomorrow I am taking a road trip to Michigan. I think I wrote previously of taking a road trip. I am taking my brother and his wife up to Michigan to look at a house that we are hopefully going to purchase. Maybe the folks are nicer up there in the UP. Maybe they suck just like here. I suppose geographically speaking there is no safe refuge from insensitive people or idiots. I don’t even know what I would do for work. I have my paralegal degree but I don’t think I want to do this job anymore. I want to be a dishwasher. I want a job with the least amount of responsibility and one that doesn’t require me to talk to the brainless. My job is rather boring. And I think I hate it. Maybe because of the people I work with. My boss is great. The coolest one here. But the ladies are drama and the air always tense. Everyone is lazy when it comes to answer phones or closing files. It falls upon me. And if there is one thing I hate in life it is responsibility. And the phone. Fuck them all for bitching yesterday for me being off. Oh no, they actually had to work. I suppose I’d be pissed too if I were that lazy.
I am patiently waiting to go home and hide under the blankets, turn on Quantum Leap and cuddle with the kitty. This is what keeps me going today. To know that in about five or six hours I will be done. It’s only Thursday. I already wrote you a five page letter today. This one will have to wait to be mailed until tomorrow. By the time you get this and read this I might be happy. It’s highly unlikely however I like to dream big. I smile at the thought at least. That’s more than I have accomplished all day. Hey if it works it works. Maybe this can be a book. My Letters to Sage. I love it. But then someone would have to follow through because I am too depressed for production.
Depressed people do more than just die though right? I mean there has to be hope for me to make some mark in this life. I firmly believe that suicide is an impulsive decision. Don’t get me wrong I have had suicidal thoughts basically my entire life and acted on them quite a few times without success. But I have noticed that the thought passes. An hour ago I could feel the desire so strong and now its subsided. Now, I am just angry. Anger is hurt outward. Apparently. Learned that in rehab.
I deactivated my facebook. Fuck stupid damn people. It’s meaningless garbage going into my brain. It’s shit that has no meaning being brought to my attention. It’s impersonal and depressing. I don’t really wish to care about people anymore. They piss me off. Okay not everyone. Just a few. And I have to be careful as facebook isn’t my diary. You are, haha. I don’t need to feel validation from people who don’t know what that even means. My daughter, god bless her soul, is all that I need. Too bad I didn’t understand that being a mom at 15 and subsequently being absent for most of her life. That’s the most depressing part about my life. Something that I have dealt with and that I deal with. Sometimes it bothers me more than other times. Like if we get a CHIPS (child held in protective services) petition about neglectful parents I think back to my own neglectfulness and feel like shit. I straight up admit it though. Not proud of it. Pretty damned ashamed really. But others give me the perfect excuse. I didn’t know how to be a mom at 15. I was just a child myself. This does make sense. But it should not havehad to be that way. Her father went to prison for being a sex offender. Decided to have like 5 other kids with 4 other woman. (2 of the 5 were twins). I am pretty damn lucky though. We have an awesome relationship. I just wished I would have been able to have a normal mother daughter relationship. Maybe this goes back to responsibility and my dislike of it. Regardless though, we are close like best friends. She encourages me to get through shit just as much as I encourage her. It’s rather nice to know I did not destroy her from my lack of parenting skills.
See I spent the better half of my teenage years into my thirties trying to die. When that didn’t work I had to start living. That is no easy task when you have made yourself a criminal from marijuana possession and made your credit shit. Oh let me tell you, I dug myself a fucking huge hole. I completely destroyed life from the inside out. But then it was about 2003 when I changed it all around.
Twelve years ago I started to invest in myself. Instead of being so fucking damn depressed and the walking dead I decided to be fucking happy and alive. That did work rather well. It’s been an upward battle since. Trust me, I really did a great job destroying life. That is why I feel so good about where I am at now and the things I have accomplished. I think I lost this happy feeling when I was involved with the narcissist for four years. He kinda drained me. He was a jerk. I don’t know why I punished myself for so long with him. So I guess I am getting back on my feet from that. It’s been a year. The first 10 months I had nightly dreams. I am so happy that they have stopped. I suppose with everything else going on my subconscious gave up mocking me nightly. I am not complaining. It feels good to know I have gotten over it. It only took a year. It’s been one hell of a year too. My mind is burned out. I suppose that might be good news for you. Until I write again….