I am a mess. On one hand, I don't really want anyone I know (that I haven't told this about) to be reading this, but I still want all kinds of validation about *what* I write. I think as of late I should be the poster child for clinical depression. So many things to write about, so few things I actually *want* to talk about. Perhaps classical bipolar stuff, I don't know. Some good things too...but who in hell actually wants to read those?
How do you begin to make "I am depressed" interesting to read? Hell if I know. I think it's probably situational, but I don't know. To add to it, I will tell you my sob story from the last few weeks. I caught what at the time seemed to be a flu/cold/something that I decided to ignore and let it go away. Well....bad decision, it didn't. It went on down to turn into bronchitis, which then took another week and a bunch of Zithromax to cure. In turn, this prevented me from working out in any way, and when you combine that with my usual response to feeling sorry for myself (food) I managed to gain a bunch of weight. (Maybe not a bunch, but I definitely got a bit out of shape). I may be joining those girls on their cross country trip to eat in every state in the Union if I don't fix this nonsense soon.
Empty. The cupboard is bare. I feel like I am out. Of caring. Of hearing. Of feeling. I do show up for work everyday. It sure beats living out of the street. So I write a bunch of lyrics. I don't want to list those here, since nobody will see them anyway. If they do, how do I keep them safe from someone swiping them? As IF someone is just gonna steal em and make a fortune on the illicit songwriter's market. SIGH. To quote Matchbox 20's Rob Thomas, I got a disease. Here are his lyrics:
I got a disease
Deep inside me
Makes me feel uneasy baby
I cant live without you
Tell me what I am supposed to do about it
Keep your distance from it
Dont pay no attention to me
I got a disease
I think that Im sick
But leave me be while my world is coming down on me
Just to make it clear, I have nothing to do with those lyrics, or else they would suck. Okay, enough ramblings. I am tired. I am empty. And I hurt my hand (somehow, without even knowing how I did it) so I can't even play the guitar. Crap. I think I will go lay down and feel sorry for myself. At least this way nobody else with then be subjected to maniacal ramblings. (At least not mine)
Shit.