Hi. What’s up? It feels like I haven’t talked to you in a while. Everything okay? Seems like you’re taking offence in my calloused way of living life. Like the listlessness oozing out of my pores is running in my blood. But you know what? It’s about as real as Trump’s intelligence.
When you gave me blow number one, I was fine with it. It wasn’t terrible. I had a great run for the past year, so one isn’t going to bring me down. Then you gave me blow number two, and that was rough. It was huge, it was hard, it was not mellow. But I got through it, because, hey, I still have things left to worry about. So I displaced the anxiety and turned it inwards, and helped myself grow. The blow was just fading out, when you gave me blow number three. Oh well, I should have seen it coming. All the signs were there, if I had looked a bit clearly; if I had thought it were possible, if I hadn’t thought myself immune. It stared right into my face and yet, it was a blow. And then there was the breaking down. I cried so much. I wish it would all stop and I get to go forward in my life where uncertainty didn’t rule. I wished for something happier- a white dove, instead of the messenger pigeon. Come on, about time that something good happened right? So I kept a low profile.
Then came blow four. And oh man! I wanted to jump off the six floors of that building, as I texted everyone how much everything sucks. And it did. It did so much. I wish there were enough alcohol in the world to numb that pain, but of course I’m too broke for that.
I wish this were all a dream, a nightmare. But I know it isn’t. But I’ve also not woken up from this dream. It still doesn’t feel real. It feels like it’s going to go away, and the sun will shine down and it will be a beautiful day. It feels like there is a light at the end of the tunnel and I just have to scrape till I reach that point. But shit. How to scrape?
And what if there’s no light? What if there’s more chaos, and deep shit? What if this is only the beginning and a lot more crap is to come before the actual light? What if it takes months, nay, years, before the light presents itself? What if friends don’t want to stay friends? What if I’m not smart enough to rely on my brain? What if I’m not empathetic enough to rely on my emotion? What if I go dark into the abyss and that’s it?
Dear Universe, I believe in you. I believe in good things and good people and I believe that everything will be okay. I believe in happy endings and making my own happy ending. Please don’t take this belief away from me. It’s been a terribly crappy month and I have never felt this much anxiety for such a long time. Just stop?