There's a blank spot in my brain where positive thoughts should be.
I've been prodding it for awhile, waiting to see what stimulates it.
So far, nothing.
It seems to be effecting the rest of my brain too. I haven't cleaned the house in a month. I know, ew. We've been doing laundry on a need-to basis. Groceries? Pfft. I've been eating soup for three straight days. I come home and literally wander around. It's not that there isn't a million things to do, some fun (like reading) and some not (like mowing). I just can't find the motivation to DO them. I decided to walk the dog yesterday... the fat one. She started pulling me toward home after five minutes. I was like, "No. We're doing this, damn it!" I expected to feel something afterward. Lord knows the dog did. But I didn't feel anything. I didn't feel rejuvenated or tired or even accomplished.
There are so many things wrong right now... in my life, in the world. I get hung up on all the problems and I just stop moving. Like maybe if I stay real still they'll forget I'm here. Hoop and I have been on a losing streak for about two years now. If it's not house troubles it's car troubles. If it's not financial problems it's emotional ones. For awhile I seriously wondered if I was bad luck. "Or maybe it's Hoop. Or maybe it's us." But now I'm starting to think that the world is generally a little fucked. I woke up yesterday morning and decided I was going to move forward, finally. I was going to use my optimism as my shield, deflecting bad juju as I went.
The day started off fine. Then the work started piling up. The phone wouldn't stop ringing. My boss had the nerve to ask me what I "do for this company, exactly". All of a sudden I couldn't find my shield. Where was is?! *Panic* Did it get buried under this rising pile of shit? Then I came home and tasted smoke on Hoop's lips. His Mom blew us off AGAIN on the list of wedding guest addresses. I realized we were out of soup. Suddenly, I found myself sobbing quietly on the kitchen floor. Irrationally, I wondered if I could make a run for it. Maybe, if I left right then (alone), I could get away before the problems noticed. But I'm weak. I decided to crawl into bed instead.
Each day this empty space inside my head gets bigger. It stretches itself out, taking possession of neighboring territories. I wish I could call it a hostile takeover. But it isn't. It feeds on apathy. There used to be this voice inside my head. It was strong and beautiful. "I can...!" "I will...!" "I am...!" But now it tells me, "I can't..." "I won't..." "I'm not..." The relief comes when it doesn't speak at all. Sometimes I'm overcome by anger and I think that I would do anything to have that voice back. Anything! But at what cost? I wish someone could tell me. But then again, what if it wasn't what I wanted to hear?
What if it meant giving up everything?