Canyons

Everything is so dim that I'm starting to believe that the world is lit by candles.  I want to remove the clouds from the sky and get a magnifying glass, peeking deeply into the woven blue quilt, looking for the tiny peepholes that will expose the candles, dimly lighting up the sky.

That's how I feel.  At least through my eyes, as everything is hard to see.  The world is so blurry, warm salty springs sprouting mad rivers down my sun damaged cheeks, falling into the grooves of the sags.  Not dripping down to my breasts anymore, rather, getting caught in the deep canyons, and then evaporating into the empty sky.  I'm certain that my whole face tastes like a salty bay, slowly moving water collecting that taste more dilligently than the ocean.

But my eyes, my face, the sky, that's nothing.

If you performed open heart surgery, cutting through my exhausted flesh, examination room light beating down to my pale pale chest, you would be surprised by the findings (or, the lack thereof).  Four-hundred and twenty three days ago, a day which I remember in the most detailed of memories, I drove down a black city street with beautiful stars looking down at me saying, "It will be okay."  But it wasn't.  I cried for fifteen miles on Second Street, Spring Garden, Broad, Ridge Avenue.  And somewhere along the dilapidated trash-scented air I managed to lose an entire organ to the gutters.  And which gutter, I don't know, but it is gone for good.  Possibly on the black market, possibly in the chest of another at this very moment.

But I can say only one thing for sure:  Despite the heaviness of my face and the warm creeks trickling down my sunspotted cheeks, none of it makes up for the emptiness in my chest.  None of it.

Sleep

I am sitting at my kitchen table in lacy florescent panties and navy blue pushup bra.  Next to me I have a cutting board with a knife, along with some remnants from the salad I just made.  I have two stamps on my hand from last night, and my nailpolish is chipping so I should probably reapply.

The most important part of this scene, however, is my face.  Red, poofy eyes.  Stretched cheeks from rubbing them all night.  Eyebrows slanted downwards, and just a defeated face in general.

Last night was hard for me.  I'm really struggling because I can't go to therapy because I don't have a job.  And I don't see myself finding a good job in the near future.  It's tough.  But I feel like while the job problem is a big problem, it's not the real core issue here.  The core issue here is that I can't even find one reason to be alive anymore.

Last night my friend got me on the guest list for his show.  Which was incredibly sweet of him.  He's a very popular guy, the show sold out, and yet he chose to give me a guest spot.  I am thoroughly grateful for that.  But I feel like I don't even know how to conduct a normal night out anymore.  It just makes me awfully depressed.  I would rather stay at home always and forever so that I don't have any expectations for myself.  So that I don't see everyone else being happy.  So that I don't see a glimmer of hope that dissipates rapidly, sending me into some serious sadness.

On the drive from North Philly to my tiny apartment, Keith asked me what's wrong.  I told him.. I am sick of being a third wheel all of the time.  I am sick of having a giant void in my chest.  I am sick of the fact that I can't enjoy anything anymore.  In the morning, I told Alyssa that I don't even see the point of living anymore, that I hope I will just die in my sleep.  I told her that I am a complete utter fuck up.

Last night when I got home, I got into bed and me (an atheist of many years) prayed and prayed for hours, tears streaming down my eyes, "please please please take me in my sleep tonight."  And when I woke up in the morning, I was so upset that I woke up.  I walked around the house.  I didn't know what to do with myself.  I got antsy.  I needed something to pass the time.  So I got back into bed, eyes puffy with tears, and wrote on a piece of paper over a hundred times, "I just want to die," just to pass the fucking time.

I know that no one wants to be around someone who is this seriously depressed.  I know that there probably isn't any relief coming in the near future.  I know that crying my eyes out in bed and begging for death won't do a damn fucking thing.. because if it did, I would have found SOMETHING by now.

But the truth is.. I really sincerely don't know what to do other than to pretend I'm happy.  It works for a bit.  The positive vibes run through my veins and make me forget about how MUCH I HATE LIVING.  You don't understand.  I don't even care anymore.  I don't give two flying fat fucks that my mom and dad would miss me.

I just want to be put out of my misery.  Fast and painlessly, unexpectedly.  I just want to go to sleep.

I just don't know what to do anymore

I am wearing an old deep gray tattered sweatshirt and light gray sweatpants.  My nail polish is peeling, my hair is unwashed.  I feel two lukewarm tears traveling down my oily face.  I'm barefoot.  My back is sore and warm.  There isn't a sound inside my apartment aside from the clicking of my keyboard and the rumbling in my stomach.  Outside though, there are blowing trees and racing cars.

I feel alone.  I do.  I feel like I won't ever find whatever it is that will make me feel whole.  I just want to be a good person, yes, but sometimes it just kills me inside.  I just looked at a picture of my beautiful sister and she has the biggest smile on her face.  She is so happy and I absolutely love it.  I am so thankful that she found peace and happiness and love and everything.

But after I said "You are just beaming, I love it," I started to cry.

When will it be my turn to beam?  When will it be my turn to find happiness?

Most days I have been doing much better.  Not much wallowing, not much self pity - I try to spend my time making the people that I care about feel better.  I try to spend my time focusing on positives and being a good person, even to complete strangers.  But now and then I stray from this pathway and I just become very sad.  I feel so empty inside.  Like the universe has abandoned me.  Like I don't deserve happiness or something.  Like I am not a good enough person.  Like I have so much more work to do-

But I'm exhausted.  I am so tired of trying so hard.  The whole thing just breaks my heart.  I want to be happy too.  I feel like a fucking mental case.  Like I don't know how to live like everyone else, and maybe that's why I'm so alone.

I have friends, I have family, I have a roof over my head, shoes on my feet, a vehicle, an education.. but really, some days I feel like none of that matters.  Because I still sit at home alone and feel like there's no purpose for me.  Like there is no reason for me to even be alive.

I always say that one day I'll adopt a kid and that will help me find purpose.  Well, I don't have a job anymore.. so that puts a big damper on that.  So now what?

I just don't know what to do anymore.  I don't cry like I used to.  I don't wallow as much as I used to.  I, in general, make it through the days with more ease.  But sometimes I feel so tired.  Sometimes things happen that make me feel like I'm on some sort of path, but I can't be certain.

I just don't know what to do anymore.