Today will be Better, I Swear!

Brought to you by Rogue’s mocha porter, people who photograph bears and manic depression.

You guys ever have one of those days/weeks/months? You know when you wake up and you’re not quite sure what’s wrong, but something is definitely Wrong. I had one yesterday. Let me start by saying there was absolutely no reason for me to have a bad day. ULOL and I stayed up Friday night drinking delicious microbrews, swapping ghost stories and eating popcorn. I went to bed at a reasonable hour after properly hydrating and slept like a tiny baby lamb on a balmy spring afternoon in a field of glitter and newly minted dreams. I opened my eyes at 9am to a sunny Saturday with a whole world of possibility stretched out before me.

I immediately regretted it. I’m pretty sure Allie captures this sentiment best with Adventures in Depression. 

[Note: if you haven’t discovered Hyperbole and a Half yet, there is absolutely no reason for us to continue being friends until you have done so. Seriously. Stop reading this right now and go experience the joys and wonders that blog has to offer. I’ll still be here when you get back. With an ice cream sandwich. ]

Birds were trilling, that cat was being unobtrusive for perhaps the first time in her whole kitten life, roomies were puttering about the house being all adorable and couple-y. The universe had finally deemed us worthy of a Perfect Day. I skulked my way down the stairs, feeling like a thunder cloud creeping in on someone’s picnic. My stomach appeared to be practicing for a contortionist audition. My brain jostled around in my head like a Mexican jumping bean on a trampoline inside a bouncy castle.

I fed myself, clothed myself and managed to sell plasma all before noon, all without incident. Turns out this was a mistake, because plasma had been my only Goal for the day. Don’t get me wrong, I had plenty to do. Homework, or the massive pile of laundry slowly swallowing my closet, or shaving my legs… Instead of motivating me, the oppressive reality of these responsibilities kick-started the cycle of apathy I ended up wallowing in yesterday. When I got back from plasma, I proceeded to listlessly drape myself over various pieces of furniture.

This was either to illicit sympathy or to shame myself out of my own pathetic mental state. I tried the couch, the lawn chair, the front steps to our house and at one point my bedroom floor. Then I realized my bedroom floor was appallingly dirty, and tried the couch again.

When dramatically displaying my apathy didn't work, I considered a whole heap of activities that involved some combination of booze, food and spending money. Unfortunately, despite my awesome new job (or due to irresponsible spending in the recent past) I’m broke as a joke. 

Being poor, I’m attempting to eat every food item in my cupboard before going grocery shopping. Sometimes you set unrealistic goals for yourself. Sometimes because of said unrealistic goals you eat rice and habanero sauce for lunch. Needless to say, it didn’t settle well.

Also, I have a total of three friends in this town. One was in Eugene, one currently has no phone and the other is my roommate, who was already attempting to console me.

I’ve heard it said that if you’re bored then you’re boring. Ok, those are Harvey Danger lyrics and he may or may not be the best source of sage advice. But around 3pm I started considering the statistical number of suicides prompted by acute boredom. Seriously you guys, are there people who feel this way about their lives every day?

Ok. Time to do something starting.... now! Nope. Not yet. 

I hit my low point around 5:30 when I started crying for no apparent reason while watching kitty cat videos on Youtube. Finally I stopped fighting this strange bout of 24-hour depression. I embraced it. I propped myself up in my unmade bed with my dirty laundry and my unbrushed teeth. I watched movies about people who actually have shitty lives. That’s right. I watched Precious and Winter’s Bone back-to-back. I drank an angsty beer and smoked an angsty cigarette and finally drifted off into an angsty sleep.

Today was marginally better. I organized my closet. I only cried once. I left my phone under the laundry, just like Autostraddle told me to. And you know what? It helped. I'm still here, anyways. 

Today you said it’s funny how things change, but what you meant was “fuck off”. I told you funny isn’t quite the right word, but I couldn’t give you a suitable replacement. What I meant is “I’m sorry”. In the end, I think the Right Word depends on your perspective. Tedium and tragedy straddle such a thin line… I’m sorry for lacking tact. I’m sorry I was afraid to talk to you. I’m sorry for still being afraid to talk to you. For what it’s worth, I do miss you. Just maybe not in the way you need me to.

Everybody. I love you.

-b