I’m still not processing things very well.
I sit in silence most nights, reading. I haven’t even been working out, even though I know I should, I just don’t have the motivation. I come home from work, & I immediately burrow under my blanket with my Kindle & dig into whatever I’m currently reading, only pausing to eat, shower, & go to bed.
Maybe taking a short break for a phone call, if one happens to come through.
But, there’s no spark, no gumption, no fire of get-up-and-go there, right now.
I’m on the down side of depression, with a large slice of anxiety mixed in.
I feel numb, most of the time, as though I’m no one. Nothing. Nothing matters, nothing changes, and no one sees it.
I hide, I camouflage very well within my masks. It’s a game I learned a long time ago, and I’m good at it.
No one knocks on my door.
The ones who call are all long distance, so they don’t see the day-to-day emotional distance I’ve erected between myself and the rest of the world.
The locals don’t call.
There are some, that only know me through here, anymore, even though they are local. The only time they think of me is if I write here, but, then I fade from their thoughts as quickly as the words vanish from view off their screens.
I am transitory entertainment…
There are days when I feel like a drive through. You pull up, receive an order, a dose of whatever’s on the menu for that day…and drive on. You don’t look back or wonder about how the girl in the window is getting along. You’ve gotten what you came for, & you’re done.
Moving on.
Everyone is always moving on.
I sit in the window, watching, expressionless, waiting for the next car.
Brea's Air 