Wednesday, September 21, 2005
checking in and checking out
My current theme song:
Your sorry eyes, they cut through bone.
Yeah, this isn't really a post. This is more like a brief check-in.
They make it hard to leave you alone.
Leave you here wearing your wounds
Waving your guns at somebody new.
Baby you're a lost
Baby you're a lost
Baby you're a lost cause.
There's too many people you used to know
They see you coming they see you go.
They know your secrets and you know theirs
This town is crazy, but nobody cares.
Baby you're a lost
Baby you're a lost
Baby you're a lost cause.
I'm tired of fighting
I'm tired of fighting
Fighting for a lost cause
There's a place where you are going
You ain't never been before
There's no one laughing at your back now
No one standing at your door
Is that what you thought love was for?
-Beck - Lost Cause
I have been more depressed in the last two weeks than I have ever been in the entire rest of my life. I can't explain it, it's just there, the great blue sadness dripping out of me like so much food colouring. I wrote a poem and read it at the open mike -- it freaked Cris out a lot. There was a lot of drowning imagery, but it really wasn't about suicide. It was about coming out, or trying to, but she got all worried and talked to Emma, who then talked to me. At least it made me feel for about ten seconds that someone out there cared and was watching out for me.
Honestly, I feel invisible about 90% of the time. I keep getting abducted by aliens, or at least I look up and discover time has passed and I have done and said things I have absolutely no memory of having done or said. Time loss is apparently not a good sign.
It's weird, it's wild, it's fucking scary.
I'm not planning any great exit, so keep your fingers off the phone.
I found a counsellor. She's nice, but this will take time, and lots of it. The last thing I have is time.
They probably won't be promoting me at work, and not because I'm unstable (I hide it insanely well). No, they're not promoting me because they couldn't care less about seniority and my BA in English literature. They'd rather hire a teacher with a Master's and keep me on cash until I fucking crack from the inside out. But that's a whole other bag of worms.
I miss the Boy. I miss being loved. I miss having a lot of friends who really care. I am sad to see everyone leaving town. I miss feeling like my life was full of possibilities.
I'll find a way to work through it, it's just that daily survival takes a lot out of me.
There are moments of levity. Best joke I heard lately: What does Bush think of Roe vs. Wade? He doesn't care how you get out of New Orleans.
My kind of black humour.
Peace out.
-N
