I’m feeling unexpectedly low during what should have been a peaceful, long weekend. A splish of healing from a breakup (wait…is it over? Is it not?…), a splash of an empty house save 2 crazy felines and a sploosh of break through is equaling my current state. I think. Makes sense. Kinda.
I was looking forward to this. The rarity of all three offspring out of the nest for three ish days is a fantabulous thing. Gives a man a chance to catch up on this and that, get in some good writing time and do whatever else comes natural. And all this has happened over the past two days. In fact, I’ve gotten alot done but with a heavy sense of blah, like a wet diaper breeding a cancerous malevolence. I don’t wanna touch it ‘cuz it’s gross but no one else is removing it for me so there it sits.
It’s times like this where I question my mental stability. Am I constantly hovering over some vacuumous depression hole? At any given momentous moment will I loosen my grip on reality just enough to begin my decent into some sort of terrible mental anguish? Am I like a thread away from the plummet? Or am I being incorrigible yet again?
Maybe time will tell. It tells us alot of things, like…the time. I feel I’m better than a breakdown, though. Sure, waves of occasional sadness and momentary despair wash over me but I’ve never felt lost to terminal downness. There’s just alot of it at times and not being exposed to it daily, it sits heavy and mostly unwelcome.
I say mostly because just like the saying misery loves company, well, there is something about these states that makes you want more. For just a bit. Or am I awaiting sympathy and this is my route? That’s stupid. Who would sympathize with me anyway? I digress.
Back to that black hole. It’s the perfect size for me to hold on to the edges and my heels can dig in, as my body sort of floats over the seal. My butt can sink in, just a half cheek, and that’s where I stay in times like these. I wouldn’t wanna know the sheer depths of what I’m hovering over, just like I care not to see what’s between a boat and the bottom of the ocean. I trust it’s a dark, dank place from which returning is a struggle on it’s own.
It won’t last. You know the drill. This guy shall bouncenth back, and you can quote me.
For everyone else, to my Canadian readers, hug your special somebody or your even specialer fam jam unit and finish off this Canada Day strong, F-works or no F-works. As for me, I’ll be chilling with my Richard Marx loop just fine.
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