misery prefers solitude

Today I couldn't get out of bed. I knew I had to go to work, but I just didn't care. Feeling the way I felt I just wanted the world to go away... just the oblivion of sleep.

I don't know if the dreams brought the depression or my depression brought the dreams, but they were terrible. First one I remembered was playing mya song on my guitar for G (Last Kiss), trying to put the chords together for her they wouldn't ring true, my fingers felt unsure and awkward, and she was losing her patience and trust that I would ever play for her again. In the next dream my dog was dead along with my brother and mom. After I hadn't fed my dog Buttermilk for three days her stomach had torn itself open, spilling her guts everywhere in a slow, agonizing death. I don't know what happened to my brother and mother; the dreams had already moved on. I had a pretty typical dream after that, that the world was overrun by vampires (sometimes it's zombies) and I was constantly fleeing and fighting them, searching for a haven or a familiar non-vampire face in the ruined landscape.

I wake up knowing they were just dreams but that they had actually happened in a sense. What point is there in getting up? in the end I'll just be lying down to die.

I used to wake up every day like this. In high school I'd wake up screaming sometimes. One or two days a week I'd just lie in bed until someone came... sometimes I'd just pretend to sleep until they left.

Now there's no one to miss me... I think if I died here in my room it would be my cleaning lady who would first notice the unmoving lump under the sheets, not G or M or V or even N, and if not for the cleaning lady I'd be growing a hairy shrub before anyone came. Would they care? Yeah, M and V would have me out of their future nursery five months early, they'd probably dig my grave themselves, I'd make great pot fertilizer. G and her new boyfriend (at least I'd have one last chance to ignore him) would come to pay their last respects, he could comfort her and hold her and kiss her... she'd be relieved to have me finally out of her life, she wouldn't have to burden herself with asking me for favors she'll never return and making promises she'll never make good on. What a joy my death would be for the world.

I really think these things when I'm depressed, it won't be till later that I realize how stupid these imaginings are (god, I hope I realize)... but like a fish doesn't realize it's wet until it's flopping around on the dry ground, I don't realize my flawed, loaded, and self-sabotaging thought patterns until I'm well again. A caged bird could sooner describe flight than I could desribe what objective reality is.

But at the least I do know it's flawed, even if I'm hesitant to believe it. So I did go to work today. I will eat today. I will go to exercise and lift weights this evening. I will continue to live my life (even though it feels futile)... in hopes that someday I'll look back and be grateful that I didn't give up, that I didn't give-in to my self-defeating thought demons. Everyday I trudge on bloody feet, because somewhere, someday, my path won't be paved in broken glass and I will heal.

NP: Lauren Hill - When It Hurts So Bad