If only my mind would slow down. It's either up in the clouds or down in the dumps looking for something, anything to stick. I can't even sit still in my mind long enough to read a book. I'm just not "chill". I can slow down enough to write but even then I don't make total sense. This "disability" shit sucks sooooo bad I can't even tell you. All I can say is that I live my life moment to moment unless I have plans which I usually don't,
I get up in the morning, I drink 2 cups of coffee and smoke god knows how many cigarettes (that's gotta stop). I wake up a bit. I greet my husband who is usually home since his job is virtual. Even still I'm lonely. I'm sad. I don't know why. There is always a reason, my Doctor would tell me, I just have to back track far enough to find the thought that either put me in the clouds or in the dumps. He's not wrong but it always eludes me. Why? Why can I just take all this medicine and be happy like a normal person would be? It scares me that I will be here forever. Anyways, after coffee, I clean the previous nights kitchen mess which usually takes a few minutes, the I go smoke god knows how many cigarettes again. I take the dog for a nice walk which is usually a difficult thing because he is vicious. Get him all unchained and go smoke god knows how many cigarettes. I come back in and sweep or vacuum anything to feel like I'm being productive. Then I go back outside for more cigarettes. Then I do aerobics of some sort to make sure I'm getting my exercise in and I'll have a smoothie or something along those lines. Then maybe I say something to my husband, get a hug and a "what's wrong?" which I can never answer. Then I try to take a nap, which rarely happens. But I will lay down and try to quiet my mind as much as I possibly can. After that I might fuck around with my hair or whatever. By 3 pm I make another cup of coffee and I try to write. Which is what I'm doing right now. After this I will go smoke god knows how many cigarettes, all the while dying slowly in my head heart and spirit. God, I'm depressing.
Don't tell me to be grateful for what I've got. I worked my fucking ass to make sure things turned out right. I'm grateful to be sure for my family and those who stand on the outside of my periphery that I call my best friends. But IT'S NOT ENOUGH. There is something deeply wrong with me and it will never go away. It will always be with me, forever. On my death bed it will be there.
But believe, I will continue searching for it. That which is elusive that we call happiness. I will continue to try to chase it down. If I could just get my mind to quiet down enough, perhaps then.