current, depressive thoughts

The dark came quick this year. Janice died, the flowers died, the leaves fell and the sun toddled away. Now I wander, trekking through quiet, dirty neighborhoods in the dusk and in the dawn and I don’t think about my dead and hurt and distant friends. Instead I insulate with information that puts no demands on my current personal experience. It pours into my head through green headphones, baptizing me in distraction. I am very alone and when suddenly, I do not feel alone, I feel hysterical. The love of the living makes me feel too mortal and I can’t deal with it. I can’t talk about Janice, I can’t think longer than that length of time it takes the slender stabbing pain to run me through whenever she comes to mind. I feel the blade slide in and out and then I think about something else; anything else. Like the holidays, like cat shit, like finding a new job, like growing my hair out, like planning every second of my week, like shopping, like cookies.

And this, my favorite time of the year is bearing down on me and a big part of me dreads it. I can’t cry anymore because all crying does is make my eyes itch. This is not a situation where catharsis can be applied. I have no means to process the end of my favorite friendship, of my favorite friend, and I don’t understand mourning because with every part of me, I feel that mourning is a skill, an ability, and I have no teacher, no talent for it, and no help.