In The Tub And Depressed Again
The apartment we moved into makes the outside seem less dull and more brightened when I stare out towards the city on the balcony. However, at night, while my mom sleeps, I trouble myself with falling asleep. Before taking myself outside, though, I have a warm bath first and read at least five short stories to keep up my reading.
This is what I do to prepare - even though I'm sure nothing will happen to me - to relieve myself of any anxiety of oncoming internal battles: like how many people in high school will be dead once I turn fifty, or if I should pack my bags and drive to California to start fresh; some of these are too fantastic to happen, like meeting face-to-face cosmic beings, beyond scope of moral and legal reality ( I do read H.P Lovecraft and Thomas Ligotti, who write these cosmic outer gods). All I have to do, I tell myself, is be vulnerable when walking around the UNM campus or taking the darkest streets near Central. Maybe then, something or someone will be there to give me a good scare, good courage, and a good story to tell.
But here I am, in the tub, trying to relax like a good boy would do after recently visiting a stranger's house in some decent neighborhood near the highway.
As I let the warm water sink my stomach and legs, I always cherished this mournful, but nostalgic frame when all I could think was how much the strangers I met always represented a torn-up part of me - a way of frighteningly activating my existence against my heart (Strangers, I say, because of what I wanted from them to do was provide sex. Now let's all be grown-ups, please!). Fresh Fresh, I say, like me to their old age and fresher freedom of inner darkness.
This definitely makes evenings more interesting since I don't have much going on at the moment. Many times, I do find it hard to think about where my mind leads to and beg myself to cry (how doomed I am, I say. Oh! How doomed…). But because of the meds I take, as I look over at the sink where four or three of my medications sit, they prevent me from reaching a level of a full breakdown for my sake and others. You could say it's progress but I chose to see it as a challenge to figuring out who I want to be; sometimes the answer is ‘vulnerable’ - but, isn't everyone vulnerable, I thought, and then always end up cringing at myself. I'm such a downer as any young adult could be, I think terribly.
Staring out on our balcony, going to the theater, watching short films on TV, or walking alone on the University campus, makes the ordeal of vulnerability more special when I can't see myself sticking around for a long time. I'm lucky to be here now. These feelings do seem harsh, I'm sure - though, when I sit alone at our new apartment, listening to the roads below from the opening door of the balcony, I sense somewhere a bunch of handsome groups of people making memories together, along sides of Central, at the parks, or maybe out of the city on a trip. Looking at Instagram, of course, doesn't help, but it does make me hopeful of what kind of friends I could have. I do wish dreadingly I was by myself somewhere, like going to California for two weeks or having the courage to take a plane to New York and stay there for five days. None of those options however work for me, because, frankly I'm too afraid of what might happen, and I don't have nobody, other than my parents or siblings, to provide guidance in case things get out of hand; their too busy; and I do just want to have friends outside of my family to make the trip feel worth it. Finally, I'll be thinking, I'm going somewhere that I'm expected to be. How does one acquire the attention they need without the effort of ever worrying whether anyone outside their house would be waiting for them, I think depressingly; I use my shampoo to not let my hair look greasy and pathetic while this thought repeats itself. I do, deep down, feel I never really had anyone waiting for me, other than my parents and siblings - but they won't be around long, I fear. Especially my parents, they're getting older and are at risk of just falling asleep and never waking up. My siblings are still strong and young, and for a while, they will be, but it doesn't take away the fact I'm the youngest one. By the time I'm old, they will be gone, and I'll have no family left to go to, and I fear I'll be the last one to go. Alongside that, I have POCD (Pedophilia Obsessive Compulsive Disorder) - now, tell me something, who would want anyone around with a mind like that? It's just awkward. And I could care less if it's right and wrong. It's just not the person I want to be; I'm sure many don't care too, obviously, but not me.
Sooner or later, I would have to get out of the tub and attend to my bed or the balcony. I don’t know which one. I'm sure my body, depending on whether it feels weak or still on edge about my own thought process, will accommodate me to whatever activity I choose to do until eventually, I'm too tired to do anything. Yes, I do workout at the gym as much as I can, and it does comfort me when my body is all tense and sore. It makes one less thing for me to worry about and that's the way I look. Do bless my poor arms and legs, I have been abusing them a ton. Now, my good reader, I've been thinking about maybe getting some Canes or maybe McDonalds for tonight…
Let's see here - Chicken Nuggets or Large Fries?
