Monday, January 18, 2010
Bad Night (Personal)
I'm having one of my crawling the wall nights. And if you've never had one, I can't explain it to you.
I want to dig my fingers into my skin and peel it off. It's like it's strangling me. I can't stand these walls anymore. No place is comfortable. Everything is like sandpaper on my soul.
I want to bite someone.
Claw my arms.
And don't ask me what's wrong because the sad truth is, nothing is wrong.
This feeling makes me want to push stick pins in the flesh of my arms. Bite my hands. Beat my head against the wall.
Yet, I couldn't tell you one thing that's wrong.
Not one thing. My life isn't horrible.
It isn't wonderful.
It's rather ordinary, unexceptional.
Many people would like my life.
I don't mind it most days.
But not today, today I want to burn down my house with me in it. I want beat my car with a bat. I want stop going to work.
I want to erase me.
Start over. Live more.
I want something else.
I can almost taste it. Like when someone peels a very ripe orange and the smell crowds your nose until you're drooling, only to find the orange itself is consumed already.
I can taste that orange but all I get is the moldy peel.
I'm dying for flavor, for juice.
I don't know what I want. I have no idea of what would make me happy. Or even if happy is something people get for more than a minute.
All I know is this, whatever you call it, isn't enough.
It'll never be enough.
And you'll never really understand what I'm talking about. I'm more talking more to myself than anything. What should I tell you?
That I'll wake up tomorrow and everything will be fine? It probably will be. Or as fine as is gets.
And I've tried therapy. I get one of two doctors. Either I'm fine or I need anti-depressants. I don't want drugs. What I want is to understand is why I get like this.
Why these moods slam into me like a freight train and all I can do tighten my grip and hope, really hope that I can hang on long enough for ride to stop. Why?
And no, this feeling doesn't last. Not forever but it does come back, time and time again.
I don't know why I'm posting this blog.
I guess, if you feel like this...to tell you that you're not alone.
But I can't help you.
I can't help anyone, not even myself.