I'm not really all that mysterious


I just can’t get to sleep. As I was walking home from Y and R’s place, I felt kind of drowsy and I was pretty sure I’d be able to get to bed OK, but of course, the phone rings, first M, then N. (And why is my life filled with all these people, and yet I feel so horribly, so irredeemably alone?)

The conversations I had were relatively benign. There was no heartache, no metaphoric knife digging deep into my chest. (It’s just that I often reflect on my inability to connect…. OK I promise to stop harping about this eventually….) I’m yawning, but I just can’t make my brain stop from going around and around in circles.

Today was a really bad day, in terms of how little work I got done, and in terms of the emotional nadir I experienced for no good reason. I just had this overpowering sense of everything going wrong, of me being paralyzed and unable to do anything to alleviate my misery. I can’t avoid it, nor can I accept it. (It is the vast nothingness of oblivion, the endless emptiness of non-existence, clawing for my soul.) I can’t just suck it up, and try to rise above it.

But, for no good reason, it leveled off at the end of the day. (Normally, I get really depressed when the sun begins to set.) While I couldn’t say that I was happy, I wasn’t despondent. Things were OK, as long as I didn’t think too far ahead of the present.

Maybe all these thoughts are neurotoxic. Maybe I am just caught by an overvalent idea. So that my only relief is to spew them out somehow, whether to a psychiatrist or to the mindless ether that is the Internet.

I don’t know. Maybe I can sleep after all.

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