Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. Get out of bed. C’mon, you can do it. Just get through the day. GET UP. Once you’re up, everything will be fine. But will it? I can’t get out of bed. I want to get out of bed. Do I? Can’t I just sleep the pain away? Why am I anxious already? This sadness and dread is gone when I’m asleep. I like that better. Sometimes feeling nothing is better. Sometimes I wish I could feel nothing forever. Another day to wither away. When is this going to end? Why can’t I control how I feel. I’ve tried everything. Is it time to end this all? Not yet. Not yet. Not yet.
I have this conversation with myself every morning. Is it strange that I’m talking to myself? Am I even talking to myself? What does self even mean? Is my existence futile? Shit. There’s that dread again. I should eat breakfast. Am I hungry? No. I need to eat. It’s been a couple days. Maybe later. I have class today. I should go this time. I can get myself to go. I like learning. I like using my brain. I’m good at school. I’m smart. Right? My mind feels heavy. I can’t go today. Maybe next time. No, I have to go. But, do I really? I suppose I don’t have to do anything if I don’t want to. I do want to go, though.
Maybe if I go to class, I can make it to that event later. Yeah, the one that some of my friends will be at! How nice it would be to see them. I’m so sad. I can’t see anyone today. I’ll only infect them with this sickness. I can’t bear the thought of hurting others with my own hurt. I’ll take the day off instead. But, maybe seeing them will help! Probably not. I’ll just end up pretending again. Putting on that veneer. Showing a happy face. Cracking some jokes. Almost sounds pleasant if it weren’t just a put on. I’ll probably talk about music or politics, complain about classes, maybe mention my job. It’ll seem completely normal. I’ll seem kind and caring and funny and interesting and even . . . happy?
Can people see through the veneer? That would be a catastrophe. No. No one can see, no one knows. Right? Even if they did, I guess I wouldn’t care. No one can help anyway. No one can understand. No one truly cares. Sure, they’ll say they do. “I’m here to talk!!” “Here’s X, Y, and Z resource that the university offers to help!!” They’ll offer words of encouragement. “I’ve been there, you’ll get through it!!” “Keep your head up, it’s gonna be okay!!” I guess.
The university gets away with an impersonal approach to dealing with something so personal. It makes me feel like another cog in the machine of the school’s production. How can we get these kids in, mentally healthy *enough* to not cause problems for the school, and then out? I imagine this is what the administration’s perspective truly is deep down, regardless of whatever show they put on for students, parents, and the public. So fuck their services. It’s all bullshit.
Same with people. We are all an afterthought in the egocentric, self-interest driven worlds of those around us. Even the ones who care. Even the ones who are “woke”. They care for you, or at least pretend to care, because it makes them feel good about themselves. They attempt to help you to help themselves, to boost their own egos, to allow them to feel like they’re doing something good. Wait. Is any of this true? Why am I thinking this way? I know that people, in general, at least, aren’t inherently so cynical or twisted that they would ego trip off someone else’s problems. Right? I’m not sure. All I know is that this is how it feels. As if everyone’s offers to help are hollow. Empty promises that will fail to fulfill either of us. Is that what this is about? Fulfillment? No. That’s not it.
It’s the afternoon, now. Where has the time gone? Was I present for this whole day? I guess I’ve been daydreaming too much. Where do I go? I don’t know. I’ll smoke something. That’ll help. Nothing better suppresses the rapid fire attacks on my psyche. Rapid fire attacks? What am I saying? It’s like I’m implying that the attacks are coming from the outside. But, they’re from within. It’s all in my head. My mind slowly, but surely eroding in its self-destruction.
Take a drag, relax. Relax. Relax. Relax. Relax. Relax. Relax. That’s better. I’ve slowed my mind down just enough to function. Just enough to interact with reality and get out of my head. Shit. I missed class. Did I have to go to work today? No, that was yesterday, I think. Tomorrow, too. Do I have homework? Yes, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I just emerged from the cave. I have to adjust to the light, the sounds, the colors. So many stimuli now that I’m aware. That’s overwhelming. Homework can wait.
Those thoughts are creeping back. I thought smoking would help, but it doesn’t work as well these days. I need to distract myself. Think. I don’t want to go outside. It’s too cold, hot, wet, dry. Bed sounds much more welcoming. I can’t nap. I’ve lost too much of this day already. What have I been doing again? I could watch a show. I’ve gone through so many already, though. Watching shows doesn’t help. Doing so further isolates me from the world. It’s entertaining, though. It’s mind numbing. It’ll help me forget. I know. I’ll smoke more, and then decide.
Where did I go? It’s been hours. Was I asleep? No. I was watching something. I should call my dad soon. I can’t right now. I just can’t. Maybe another time. I think I’m finally hungry. Not hungry enough to do anything about it. I don’t mind, the hunger will recede soon enough. I miss being outdoors. I love it so much. But outside makes me sad now. The beauty of it all juxtaposed with my ugly, self-abasing mind. I can’t stand it. I can’t stand it. I can’t stand it.
It’s getting dark outside. I hate this time of year. I love this time of year. It could use more sunshine. Why is it dark so early? I guess I don’t mind. It feels, for once, that my environment is a product of me rather than the contrary. That’s not how it works, I know. It’s cold now, too. I like it. I find the numbing effect it has on me to be blissful. The wind is blowing and roaring loud enough to drown out the external world. This is nice. The ethereal atmosphere is uplifting. A sense of emptiness is encroaching. The wind shuts out the world and traps me in my head, embracing the cold. I feel nothing now. Nothing. No bliss. The wind stripped that away, and the niceness is quickly being replaced by emptiness.
The boys are home now. Finally, something to drag me from the recesses of my own despair. The night is flying by now. A show. Music. Smoking. Drinking. Drinking. Drinking. Damn, I’m drunk now. And high. My mind is starting to be quiet. This is what I was yearning for. Right?