2 March 2020

 Today.

I saw this poem posted by

Siouxsie

, where the poet was reciting her struggles with depression.

"Why is spoken word always delivered in an angry voice?"

'...because the poets have such short phrases to work with, and they want to make an impact...?'

(me, talking to myself, right this moment)

I had sat through an agonizing online tutoring session, because the student was sharing so little of what they had, as resources. Was it the student's fault? Was it the online tutoring platform's fault? Was it my fault - I mean, I tried to provide advance notice that I needed some sort of background material!

In any case, that had left me sore and discouraged, because it felt like such an unsuccessful tutoring session.

So, I set off to play board games at Tribe. My bag was heavy with the two bottles of tea, and, en route, I remembered the Long John Silver's had all you can eat fish on Sunday. I detoured, and devoured two full plates..

and decided, with the chill in the air, and the stomach full, it may be best to head home, to sleep it off. Sitting at the bus stop, I read the poem about depression.

I got home, and napped, with the intent of waking to head out to the 5:30 AA meeting. When the alarm went off, though, my mind was saying, "OH, that was a beautiful nap! Let's have another. So, I did - AA meeting tabled...

I tutored another student, who was digging for answers on her quiz... and who ended the session, when I tried to get her to do the work... anger and daggers shooting from my brain.

fast forward because i'm sleepy again.. I did have a good session, near the end of the night - tutoring stats

Still... there's this craving for company, this desire to be around people more.... Trying to handle everything on my own, year in and year out, wears away at my mind. Everyone becomes but strangers, and eventually... i break.

i stop thinking about food, shelter, job.... i just curl up in bed, feeling so unsupported, so lost, so useless...

I want to lay down my pack, and rest for a bit; but I'm still stuck in a strange sort of desert. i try to get attention, because i feel like i'm drowning in quicksand.

...if my light were to go out, i question how many weeks would pass before anyone would notice? maybe my job would be concerned, but i do not have faith that anyone else would.

but, now, I'm just trying to write for effect. i want to howl at the moon, in the hopes that some pack will eventually find me.