Little Heart-Shaped Headstones (What A Great Album Name...)
I wish I had something better to say.
I took yesterday and slept most of the day. I hate that I did that. The truth is, I just didn't want to deal with being awake. I didn't want to think. I didn't want to deal. I didn't want to feel this screaming inside of my head. So I didn't. I slept. When I didn't sleep, I went out. I got dinner and thought about the future. It's BTM and his woman's wedding weekend and I can't be there, but it certainly gave me fodder for things to think about. In a way, it was really cool to think about how I'd want my wedding, who I'd invite, whether or not I'd want a honeymoon. But as cool as it was to look forward, in a way, it was also a bit of a slap in the face...I realized that a lot of what I was thinking about, I'd already thought about and talked about with the Pisces. Someone once told me that just because a relationship dies that the dreams born from that relationship don't have to die. I don't know if I believe that. I know that those dreams and that future seemed so bright. I used to wake up in the morning and roll over and pull a pillow to my chest and smile and think of the day when I'd be able to wake up and pull her to me. Or when I'd be able to wake up and look across the pillow at her. Or what life would be like together. And now, those dreams seem more like small headstones. Things once alive and beautiful that got put in boxes and laid to rest. After I was done letting all those things roll around in my head (the screwdriver was helping to keep me from coming completely apart), I took off on a search for Rockstar Guava and discovered that it was suddenly missing from Houston. Bastards. So I went home. I logged on and checked mail, logged out, put my sneakers on, and went running again. It didn't help. I kept looking up at the crescent moon and feeling very cold and empty. I came home, showered, went to bed. When I woke up, I rolled over and went back to sleep. I did that all night long. I'd look at the clock, remember what I was dreaming about, not want to think about it, and go back to sleep. If I hadn't had to work today, I'm relatively sure I would have never gotten out of bed.
I've been depressed before, but not like this. This doesn't feel like depression. Depression feels like this huge sadness crushing down, an unbearable weight. This just feel like emptiness. Like I don't want to deal. I don't want to feel. I don't really know what to do or say.
Which is worse: to cut hope away and crash hard or to hope and end up hanging yourself with it in the end?
My schedule is all fucked up this week. I have to work a full day tomorrow. Monday I'm off. Tuesday through Thursday, I work just in the morning and early afternoon. Friday, I work a double. Saturday, I'm off. Barring better plans, I think I'd like to go to Underworld on Saturday. Otherwise...I'll be here, prolly running and sleeping.
I hate this.
I took yesterday and slept most of the day. I hate that I did that. The truth is, I just didn't want to deal with being awake. I didn't want to think. I didn't want to deal. I didn't want to feel this screaming inside of my head. So I didn't. I slept. When I didn't sleep, I went out. I got dinner and thought about the future. It's BTM and his woman's wedding weekend and I can't be there, but it certainly gave me fodder for things to think about. In a way, it was really cool to think about how I'd want my wedding, who I'd invite, whether or not I'd want a honeymoon. But as cool as it was to look forward, in a way, it was also a bit of a slap in the face...I realized that a lot of what I was thinking about, I'd already thought about and talked about with the Pisces. Someone once told me that just because a relationship dies that the dreams born from that relationship don't have to die. I don't know if I believe that. I know that those dreams and that future seemed so bright. I used to wake up in the morning and roll over and pull a pillow to my chest and smile and think of the day when I'd be able to wake up and pull her to me. Or when I'd be able to wake up and look across the pillow at her. Or what life would be like together. And now, those dreams seem more like small headstones. Things once alive and beautiful that got put in boxes and laid to rest. After I was done letting all those things roll around in my head (the screwdriver was helping to keep me from coming completely apart), I took off on a search for Rockstar Guava and discovered that it was suddenly missing from Houston. Bastards. So I went home. I logged on and checked mail, logged out, put my sneakers on, and went running again. It didn't help. I kept looking up at the crescent moon and feeling very cold and empty. I came home, showered, went to bed. When I woke up, I rolled over and went back to sleep. I did that all night long. I'd look at the clock, remember what I was dreaming about, not want to think about it, and go back to sleep. If I hadn't had to work today, I'm relatively sure I would have never gotten out of bed.
I've been depressed before, but not like this. This doesn't feel like depression. Depression feels like this huge sadness crushing down, an unbearable weight. This just feel like emptiness. Like I don't want to deal. I don't want to feel. I don't really know what to do or say.
Which is worse: to cut hope away and crash hard or to hope and end up hanging yourself with it in the end?
My schedule is all fucked up this week. I have to work a full day tomorrow. Monday I'm off. Tuesday through Thursday, I work just in the morning and early afternoon. Friday, I work a double. Saturday, I'm off. Barring better plans, I think I'd like to go to Underworld on Saturday. Otherwise...I'll be here, prolly running and sleeping.
I hate this.