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Sunday, Jan. 25, 2004 / 5:52 p.m. ~I'm Supposed to Give THIS a Title?!~ I am not manic depressive. I'm just depressed, and then not so depressed. Depressed, really miserable, like can't get dressed, can't feed myself, etc., that kind of depressed, then not too bad, I can get dressed, I can clean my apartment, I can shop and cook, etc. It fluctuates, and the worst is when it's all in the same day. Today is a low day. It didn't really start out that way, it started out confused, as usual, what day is it, is that rain I hear, that sort of thing. But now it's full fledged, it's I am so fucked up, I cannot sustain any sort of relationship with anyone, and anyone who has any potential of liking me for any length of time will soon change his or her mind and realize what a freak I am and hate me, wish he or she had never met me. If I could imagine anyone at all thinking of me, in any sort of positive way, or having meaning for anyone, anyone out there wanting to be with me, or to know me, but I can't. I've ruined all of it, I've sabotaged the whole lot, I've pushed them all away, or pulled too hard, and I'm left with me, a useless fortune cookie. Yeah, thanks for that, that was a good one. I am useless. I have no purpose. It's true. It's all true, and we are all of us nothing more than neurons and molecules and atoms, we none of us have meaning, this is all some grand experiment or a dream from which some slob will soon wake. I pause to let out primal angsty moan. It just doesn't matter, not any of it. I can't remember where I parked my car. I haven't been outside my home since I arrived here Friday afternoon. I managed one bath. I still have not washed my hair since Thursday night. I finally washed some dishes, I had to. I was tired of eating sandwiches off of paper towels. My stomach growls, and we'll assume that means I'm hungry, but food is the last thing I want inside me. I don't want to ingest anything. I want my body to stay contained and separate from everything. Only my fingers keep moving across the keyboard, seemingly independent of my brain, but in total accord. There's no point to any of it, not anymore. It was all a mistake, all a cosmic fuckup, and all a great big tease in the overall scheme of things. I am not even here, you are imagining you're reading this now. I want to fall into that hole and spiral downward, never come back up. I dreamed it once, and it was calm and blissful. Only frightening at the beginning. I have to go to work tomorrow. I can't fathom it now. I can't imagine, it's outside my realm, my scope, it's nothing firm nor real. I am afraid, and I am hesitant, and I can't see it, not at all. It's foreign and strange to me now. Everything is. There is nothing, there is nothing, right now, there is simply nothing. Cost of the War in Iraq
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