Trying To Shake This

All day today, I’ve been feeling down. Nothing that I think I can point to – but a general feeling of unhappiness that seemed to grow as the day wore on. I hung out with Justin after work and, after a bit of uncomfortable silence and prodding, he got me to talk some more. During dinner, I actually talked about medication, and wondered out loud if I needed to be on some. Normally, I abhor the very idea. Today was, apparently, a really negative day, since I mentioned such a thought.

I’m happy I ended up talking and hanging out with Justin a bit. By the end of our converastion, my mood was slightly elevated. How to say this? When we walked into the restaurant, I was feeling so shity, so incredibly unhappy that my chest and hands were hurting. My hands, ffs.

In the past 30 minutes, I feel like I’ve been all over the map. On the walk home, there were a few seconds where I thought I was going to lose it, right in the middle of the street. Inside my apartment, I curled up on the couch for a few minutes and that seemed to help some. It’s odd because I tend to either feel one way or another, and this whole waving, cresting shit is new and not very fun.

Right now, I’m feeling fairly ok. A big part of me is tempted to just go full steam with this: drink a ton, listen to some sappy music and just get it the fuck out of my system. I’m not sure I really want to go through with this, but it seems better than just sitting passively by and letting things happen. At least I’d be focused, actively trying to do something about how I feel.

I feel like I want to sift through old photographs and letters. This is such a terrible, extraordinarily bad idea, it’s not even funny. But the desire is there. The itch.

I’m wondering now, about why you’re here. Slightly off topic I know, since I’ve just been rambling about me. But I wonder if I’m ever going to drive you away with all this pissing and moaning about. I mean, after a while… maybe you’re not bored of hearing this just yet. But in another six months? Another year? Another few years? When will you tire of hearing this whining?

Ah, or maybe it’s the opposite. Maybe these are the moments, these confessional, blurt-out-anything times that keep you coming back. Maybe I’m wrong to think that the big pictorials are the draw, and that it’s these smaller moments of doubt and apprehension that pull you back and back.

Alright. That was nice. It almost felt like I deflected something. I wouldn’t say I’m feeling great, but I guess I can say that I’m not feeling bad. That’s something, I guess.