I don't like the way things are going, the way things have gone. Maybe it is simply more media. I don't know. Now every street fight seems to be a viral video. Fires and floods and mass murders. War. Shortages. The many acronyms, the many "isms."
Friends send me videos and pictures of their happy lives. Sometimes they tell a different story.
I'm not sure I am a good reporter of anything now. My current life experiences don't lend themselves to interesting posts and I don't have the energy to make things up.
I'm not sleeping. I wake in the night and think nightmarish things. Anxiety overtakes me. Then I fall into what I can only describe as a semi-slumber and keep thinking the same things over and over and over again. I think I can't handle my life's situations and wonder how I ever did it before.
Then I think, "You didn't do it well, surely not well enough."
My body buzzes with fatigue. I'm tired all the time.
And I can no longer pretend to be a "photographer."
It is Friday. For most of you, the feeling is profound. Your body and soul shifts gears. There will be carnivals or festivals or markets or movies. Maybe only dinner and drinks and a movie at home. You think of something you'd like to do on Saturday or some thing you'd like to get. Just to wander and to look. A pair of huaraches, maybe or a bracelet. Some essential oils or simply some shaved ice from that hippie food truck parked in the lot of that seemingly magical homestore with its treasures and surprises. Sunday brunch, perhaps, with mimosas. Sunday soup and grilled cheese sandwiches.
My job now has no weekends. Every day is the same necessary routine. My life is a steady hum. I cannot report on it anymore. My life no longer interests me. I no longer interest anyone.
There are bleaker things I could confess.
I got up this morning thinking I would not post. Maybe I've moved from depression to despair. It is not a place I care to remain. I don't know how others do it.
Oh sweet melancholy, where have you gone?
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