(Silently swearing..?)
“I want to die.”
...no, I just feel overwhelmed. I feel less than - perhaps marginalized?
(Somebody quips, “feelings are not facts”... another: “well, when that happened to me, I...”... and another, and another - so many voices trying to be heard)
That’s how I imagine it, when, in reality, it’s more like the deafening roar of silence - everyone’s self-absorbed.
The horrible thing is that I don’t know if I make sense when I speak. I don’t know if I’m getting on your level, speaking your language.
I don’t know if you even care. (Well, That is unfair... all or nothing statement, there...)
I imagine the baby on the high chair, banging his spoon for attention... evoking an image of Trump to parallel.
Attention-grabbing... power-seeking... clamoring to be heard, to be seen favorably? (That’s not me - is that me? ...pointing to conversations instead of monologues and 4 a.m. postings)
Now, I’ve lost my steam, because it scrolled off the screen.
(I do not know if there is “an easy fix”... I do not know if I can make sense... I do not know if anyone, myself included, wants to have a fearless conversation...)
I do not know.
So, I want to die.
Oblivion.
—————-
(Taking a cue off an earlier post, I retreat to my bed, to sleep through the depression...)
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