Not Tonight

Dear Hearts,

Not tonight.

I’m in that place again. Nothing makes me feel…well, much of anything.

I need to write about—I know what I need to write about. But I’ve already had one episode today. So I’m not gonna write about it tonight.

This is clinical depression—like any chronic illness, it hits like a Jersey wave and then is calm like a Florida bay.

Gaia called instead. She said I don’t have a choice about living or dying.

Talking to her for over an hour was far more important than writing about THAT. I already know the answer. FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME.

NOT TONIGHT.

My voice has lost its lilt its tenor. That’s how I know I’m back in the well. I fake it. But as Martha said, “faking is sometimes too hard.”

I just wanna color and watch The Blacklist and then an episode of The Walking Dead. Play a song for me, Mr. Tambourine Man.  That’s the closest I Mr. Tambourine Man is giving me.

Much Madness is divinest Sense—Emily Dickinson

Much Madness is divinest Sense -

To a discerning Eye -

Much Sense - the starkest Madness -

’Tis the Majority

In this, as all, prevail -

Assent - and you are sane -

Demur - you’re straightway dangerous -

And handled with a Chain -

Smoke ‘em if ya’ got ‘em. God Bless

In the name of The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; Mother Mary, Saint Brigid; Saint Jude; Saint Therese Lisieux; Saint Peter; Archangel Michael, and my Guardian Angel, Jed.

PS: The Walking Dead—Glenn, really? You had to fucking kill off Glenn?! You motherfuckers. If you kill Darryl, I will join the riot. UPDATE: Good choice to not kill Glenn after all. Nice plot twist. I couldn't believe you'd kill him!

PPS: Gaia and Johnny--God keep you.

PPPS: It's the generalized fear, terror that is most exhausting.