My apartment is a mess. I'm a mess. My dog is sick.
I can't bring myself to clean. One cannot take care of something one does not care about. There's no motivation, no reason. No energy. No point. The kitchen and the bedroom are about the only ones that look decent. Eating and sleeping. The essentials.
This city is a cemetery and this apartment is a tomb. I feel the weight as soon as I get here. It's not a home. I want to clean it all out, sanitize it, defragment it, boil my possessions down drastically. To the minimum. To hell with the rest.
I have to go to work tomorrow. I don't know if that will help me or not. It could go either way. I'd just have to come back here.
I'm not sleeping like I should. I eat when my stomach hurts. It all seems pointless.
I switched out calendars today. I took the old one down from above the small shelf where my shoes and bag go and sat cross-legged on the couch copying over important dates. Well over half the ones from last year don't have to be remembered this year.
I spent my birthday on small obscure roads between the sagebrush desert of Idaho and the concrete desert of Arizona. I'm twenty-four. I didn't even have the energy to get drunk for New Year's. I had a screwdriver sitting in front of me untouched for hours. Damn it I just need to cry.
Suffering is part of the human experience. It rises and falls like everything in this world. It will pass, and I'll be okay. Right?
- David
Let's make a fast plan, watch it burn to the ground.
I hear you Dave. Sometimes we just need some space from everything, including material stuff.
ReplyDeleteBest advice: get rid of some of the old stuff and store away stuff you still wanna keep but don't use as much. It's probably the clutter that's really getting to you. I know with packing up my stuff to move out I am getting better