I'm fine

I have been having an epic couple of days. There's nothing I can really point to as a cause or an inciting incident, but regardless, I have been feeling incredibly lousy. Everything is continuing as normal. I'm still going to work, still going to class, still taking unimaginative self-portraits and posting them on the internet. The big difference is that I feel like the invisible skin of okayness that was holding me together is now gone and at any moment I may collapse into a puddle of random parts on the floor.

I went to the movies at the Living Room Theaters again last night. Saw The Counterfeiters because I figured a holocaust movie must be enough to jar me out of my personal funk. It was, for a moment, and then I stepped outside the theater and the world came rushing back in. I stood at the Max stop by myself and wept for around fifteen minutes, a really ugly cry, an abundance of snot, while I waited for the train. I found myself hoping to not be noticed while at the same time wishing the world would send me a caring (non creepy) stranger who would give me a hug and remind me that everything will be okay.

I managed to get myself home without attracting much attention, then I had another good cry in the basement (but not too loud, because it was after 10, you see). This one lasted a good half an hour. Finally, emotionally and physically exhausted, I put on my little cat pajamas and crawled into bed. I really hoped it would be the sort of thing where I would wake up feeling better, but no, not really. With the skin of okayness gone, my soft emotional underbelly is entirely exposed and I am not holding up very well. Again, still going to work, still going to class...just with this oppressive feeling of sadness pushing down on me.

I feel conflicted about actually posting this because we're not really supposed to talk about these things, not in polite company. I've had several calls today where the callers asked me how I am and I'm pretty sure they would be thrown if I told them I am so incredibly sad I could just cry right now. They just want to hear that I'm fine. But the truth is the truth, and I am not fine. And I am angry at my life for turning out in such a way that there is nobody around to notice.

Later: Say what you will about how horrible cigarettes are (and I will not disagree with you), but I just had one and I feel a million times better. It makes me wonder whether it's the nicotine (or the assorted poisons involved) or if it's just the meditative action of inhaling and exhaling deliberately and slowly. Of course there's a price to be paid. Now I smell bad and I have a funny taste in my mouth. But I feel better, and that's got to be worth something.