Notes from my Black
“Low key depression”
It’s not early, but it might as well be. No one is up and I’ve been up almost all night. My chest feels like it’s having a panic attack but my brain is mostly calm. I don’t feel panicked, just tired. It’s like I’m laying on the outside of a super conductor electrical box. I feel the current, but it’s only there to vibrate my body. My muscles are tired and still sore from exertion. My hands are still cut up a little and my fingertips feel like I sanded them just to the capillaries. I didn’t.
I did something uncharacteristic of me this past week. I told my therapist I am depressed. The response was a brush off in my opinion. Maybe I should find someone else to waste my money on. I have this long standing law in my head. Don’t tell the deep dirt. It shows weakness and gives away your power. This brush off response just tells me no one wants my power anyway. Strangely, this is not comforting.
Signs- when the world doesn’t give direct answers, I look for signs, if I care enough to. I keep looking under rocks for my ghosts. The nooks and crannies are bare which accompany the universe in proving to me I am supposed to be alone in love and in friendship. The universe sucks. I hope I’m proved to just be shitty judge of signs, but in many ways, I see things more clearly than I am supposed to.
I thought about cutting again. I’ve stopped my diet. I wonder how fat I’ll get. I don’t want to buy new clothes. I’ve determined my size and shape just don’t matter. I had to shower in the daytime the other day. That was unpleasant.