Is the memory of the sorrow it brings

I get so nervous – I’m shaking
It gets so I got no pride at all
It gets so bad but I just keep coming back for more
Guess I just get off on that stuff

And so starts the prelude to the long December. The weather is getting chilly, as is my heart. The leaves blow, colors are changing, along with my mood. I can’t shake it lately. The few moments I have alone each day are filled with sadness and anxiety. I don’t want to get out of bed, I don’t want to go to work, I don’t want to go home. I just don’t want.

So I feel pretty useless to everyone these days. I know I’m a bear when I’m like this and I’m surprised anyone sticks around to see what happens.

Mostly I feel used up. Bled dry. I don’t know what the feeling comes from, why it lands on me. Lately I’ve felt I have no one to talk to. Not that I don’t have friends that I trust and would be there for me, I love my friends dearly and if I actually asked once in a while, I know they would be there in a heartbeat. So I lied, I have people I can talk to, I just don’t feel like I can be honest with anyone. Especially because that starts with being honest with myself. I’ve got some feelings stuck in my head, nay, heart…that just shouldn’t be let free. Wants, greediness, desires, regrets, violence.

I don’t like me when I’m like this. I usually do something stupid when I sink into a depression. Cut off my hair, get a tatoo, cheat, lie, buy an animal, run away. I just don’t know how to get it back to good.  

Two Novembers in a row, quite a few years back now…some life changing events occurred. Sometimes I wonder if that has any bearing on the way I think I feel in every subsequent November. Perhaps those things were never dealt with in a healthy manner. Perhaps I’m full of shit and it really didn’t mean a damn thing and I’m just not happy. So how do I take a life most people would be happy, lucky, over-joyed to have, and make it the truth for myself? What in the world could lead me to believe that I’m so special, that this life isn’t good enough for me?

I’m so very tired. All the time. I don’t want to do anything but sit on the couch and submerge myself into a fantasy world through the television so I don’t have to think about it all. I’ve felt so sick lately, so lame. I don’t want to go anywhere unless it involves drinking or poker, or spending monumental amounts of money. Again, anything that takes my mind off my nothingness.

Not really sure what the point of writing this was. I don’t feel better, albeit I don’t feel worse. Maybe, what the truth really is, is that I just don’t feel. I’m barely alive aren’t I? Cold heart in a warm body, with all the right words to hide the ugliness. I’m usually the anti-anti-depressant advocate, but I’ve been thinking a lot about it lately. There shouldn’t have to be anything that changes in my life to make me happy. I’ve got a good home, a good job, a good love, good friends, good family. So maybe there is something chemical going on. But aren’t those stupid little pills just a way to sweep everything under the rug, and pretend you’re happy? I don’t know.

That’s just it. I don’t know, and I’m going to go on not knowing until I figure out how to piss or get off the pot I guess. Stop bitching about it and change it or deal.

So why does it feel like both are so out of reach?