YOU COME TO ME IN THE MORNING, making it very hard to get up. I have to force myself, really force myself to move. As I get up, it seems like you’re dragging me back into bed. I go to the bathroom avoiding the mirror. Hating to see myself in this lousy state of helplessness. Still, you force me to look at myself. I see an empty stare. I see a nobody staring at me, sneering almost as though laughing at me for being such a failure. I made it to shower and putting on some fresh clothes. All I’m having is bad coffee for breakfast. You make it impossible for me to eat. I just don’t have the appetite. I drive to work wandering if it would be easier to just drive myself into that huge tree or a lamp post. Then it would end.
Good, I made it to work without a scratch! Oh, no here comes Mr. happy nice guy! I hate his guts! He with his fat belly sticking out, smiling all the time as though he just won the lottery. "How you doin’ Peter? it’s a beautiful day, ain’t it?!" All I could muster was a weak "good, good" and a shrug. I hope I don’t see him all day today! I go to my tiny desk at the corner of this huge, old, dark building, pretending to go about my daily tasks. I’m not really here, I am somewhere chaotic. There everything is pitch black. Lifeless, meaningless, emotionless.
I should have sold my soul to the devil when he offered it. I don’t care if I burn in hell for eternity. I’m living that now. What difference does it make? What was it he would bring me in exchange for my soul? 10 years of indulgence, pleasure, money, success, fame, anything I ask for. Of course that was in my dream. Even in my dream I’m such a loser. I couldn’t even play it with the devil.
Gad, I have been in this desk for 9 hours straight, working on this stupid paper in the computer. I didn’t even notice the time go by. It’s time to go. Where would I head now? Nobody is waiting for me at my empty apartment. As usual, I would head to the bar and bury myself in booze. You’d like that don’t you? You get a kick when I wallow in tears with a bottle of vodka on hand. Why don’t you leave me alone?! I couldn’t even make a good conversation with this hot babe beside me. I’d be lucky if I get laid tonight. I’d be too drunk by then even to drive myself home.
Ugh, where am I? Am I dead? Why is evertything around me white? Why am I in a white clothing? I know where this is. This is the hospital. Did I do it this time?! Why am I still alive then? I shouldn’t be. The plan is to end it. NOT extend it and stay in this freakin’ hospital to recover. I don’t need recovering. I don’t need saving. No one can save me. Hey, wait a sec, this could be a mental asylum. NO, that couldn’t be. Who would drag my a** in here? I couldn’t have consented. I need to talk to someone and just enlighten me on this. Are you there? Sure, Sure you don’t know anything about this. I did this on my own. Fine.
Ahhh, this hangover is killing me. I don’t remember a single thing last night.It’s 7:00 am. I have to get to work. It’s only Tuesday. My week is only starting.
You come to me in the morning, making it very hard to get up. I have to force myself, really force myself to move. As I get up, it seems like you’re dragging me back into bed. I go to the bathroom avoiding the mirror. Hating to see myself in this lousy state of helplessness. Still, you force me to look at myself. I see an empty stare. I see a nobody staring at me, sneering almost as though laughing at me for being such a failure. I made it to shower and putting on some fresh clothes. All I’m having is bad coffee for breakfast. You make it impossible for me to eat. I just don’t have the appetite. I drive to work wandering if it would be easier to just drive myself into that huge tree or a lamp post. Then it would end.
How does it end? I’m not the judge of that. HE is. Only He, the all-knowing, the omniscient, the omnipotent can end it. I can live my life the way it is day after day after day or change its course and become something. Meanwhile, I have to deal with you. Yes, you. You who steal happiness, hope and faith. You, the bearer of despair, hopelessness and misery. You are my depression and I want you out of my life. Now. I have a life to live. Stop bugging me. I want to wake up every morning. I want to get to work. I want to see my friends. I have friends. You took them away. I have a family. You drove them away. You cannot come to me anymore, not in the morning, not when I’m at work or at play, especially not at night. No sir. I don’t need you and your death wish. My winter blues is over. I have a life to live and my future awaits. Bring it on…
