I really have thought I was going to call it a day at several moments in the past few months. Lying in bed surrounded by the dark, cut-off from the world, your mind resets to the default, without stimulation, it is your thoughts then that are the most honest, the most vital, the most brutal.
It turns out my 'default' state of mind is resignation, reticence, and lethargy. 'None of it matters' I think. I listen to music to feel vindicated, not to receive an uplifting message. I long for Leonard Cohen to wrap me in his arms and tell me he felt that way too, he's been there. He in the Chelsea Hotel, and I in my room, in my rags, in my hovel.
I gave too much to someone, and now I have nothing left. My arms are empty of blood, and my mouth is full of words that bubble up from some polluted depth, the words plume to the surface and spray out into the air, but they don't mean anything. I wasted all the meaning on you.
It turns out my 'default' state of mind is resignation, reticence, and lethargy. 'None of it matters' I think. I listen to music to feel vindicated, not to receive an uplifting message. I long for Leonard Cohen to wrap me in his arms and tell me he felt that way too, he's been there. He in the Chelsea Hotel, and I in my room, in my rags, in my hovel.
I gave too much to someone, and now I have nothing left. My arms are empty of blood, and my mouth is full of words that bubble up from some polluted depth, the words plume to the surface and spray out into the air, but they don't mean anything. I wasted all the meaning on you.
It feels like I'm living underwater, sometimes. Swimming down the streets, gasping for air, diving into buses, and searching for pearls under rocks, prying cigarettes away from lobsters. I can't face the world, so I pretend it doesn't exist, the people are gorgeous, and they are so unaware. If you've ever tried telling someone you have the flu and had them laugh at you and act like you are making a big deal about it, try telling someone you like that you suffer from a very deep depression. Letting that cat out of the bag, on a date, because you feel you are an honest man, is quite a hard thing to do, and you hope to god they've been there to just so they can understand.
I am not a morose person, but happiness takes a lot of work for me, waking up in the morning is a grotesque dance.
The point of all this is that I used to have something that made this infinitely more bearable, it used to not hurt to crawl into bed at the end of the day. It is an unpleasant realisation that you have single-handedly alienated and pushed away the person who means most to you in the world. I always accused you of being selfish, but it was clearly, always the other way around. I was brutal, and manipulative, and I suppose my inability to relate to almost anyone these days is a direct result of my failures in our relationship.
I am not a morose person, but happiness takes a lot of work for me, waking up in the morning is a grotesque dance.
The point of all this is that I used to have something that made this infinitely more bearable, it used to not hurt to crawl into bed at the end of the day. It is an unpleasant realisation that you have single-handedly alienated and pushed away the person who means most to you in the world. I always accused you of being selfish, but it was clearly, always the other way around. I was brutal, and manipulative, and I suppose my inability to relate to almost anyone these days is a direct result of my failures in our relationship.
Oh well. At least I have television......
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