It Does Get Worse

It's funny, the lyric from Counting Crows, "it's 4:30 A.M on a Tuesday...it doesn't get much worse than this."

Wellll, it's 4:17 A.M on a Tuesday, and it is pretty bad. If it does get much worse than this, I don't want to be around to see it. I'm done. I am the point where I'm just looking for my punch card and once I find it, I'll grab it and punch out of this bitch.

I'm at a breaking point...How many breaking points can someone honestly get to? I can't do this anymore. It's been more than 4 months of my life living with this. It's so unbelievably hard for me to live most days that I don't have words to explain how it feels. I don't know how else to say it. Think of the worst day you'd have to go through, short of those transcendent days where you find out you've lost someone close to you.

Just a day where you wake up, and genuinely don't feel like doing a god damned thing. That's my best day.

Kristin was gone for 3 days, Friday to Sunday. I came home Thursday from Cleveland at around 9:00 and I didn't leave the fucking house until Sunday when she was already home...And when I did, it was a shatter to my psyche. Just more of the bullshit of living here. It reinforced to me that I am making the right decision, but at the same time, it makes me want to not be part of this world any more. I had the strength to leave the crib, and take part in the world, and it fucking ended in shit. Why even bother?

Friday night I grabbed my keys after getting out of the shower. I could feel "it" coming but I thought meeting friends at the bar was going to be the trick. I broke down, on my knees, literally, crying on the floor, for no reason. I was going to see people who genuinely love and accept me...I didn't make it out the door. We weren't going to get hammered, just people were looking out for me and wanted to talk, and I don't feel worthy of that. I don't. I just don't...They should leave me alone. You all should.

So, I cried for a good chunk of Friday night, and when I wasn't bawling, I was just numbly existing. Same with Saturday. I woke up and just go through life numb. I like Tiger games, I like the normal stuff, but to say there is a cloud hanging over everything in my life is an unbelievable understatement. I enjoy the game, I enjoy my roadies, but there is this feeling of an impending finality to it all. It's going to be over, and then back to...DEPRESSION. YES!

That shit isn't worth it. The occasional good hours are covered in a black sheath of grim finality, and the moments when I'm not jadedly enjoying myself, I am numb, just waiting to get my 11 hours of medically-induced sleep...or existing because I am supposed to. (It is officially 4:30 A.M on a Tuesday as I type this).

Want the rest of that depressing lyric? It's pretty phenomenally bleak...."In beds in little rooms in the middle of these lives which are completely meaningless." I'm tortured and I don't understand how to get to the end of this without doing something drastic. Is drastic this Michigan and then whatever trek? If it is, then why do I cry every time I get into bed with her?

It's like sitting in Cleveland, in beautiful weather, but knowing that the game would end and I'd have the drive back home waiting for me, and the waking up to myself on Friday morning to get to. I know there is just impending shit, and that's what life is...it really is. Life is just a string of impending shit.

If life is glorious we should do what makes us happy right? This construct of greed, and more, more, more and doing what other people think or say you're "supposed" to do is a mother-fucking lie.

I want to watch the Tigers play every single game in person (insert your own example of what life would really make you happy). That can't happen because of the practicality of life I suppose right? You don't want to go to work in a cube. Who the fuck does? It's all an ends to a mean...but what mean? Substance or surface? Mostly, 99.9% surface for most of us.


"Why am I fighting to live, if I'm just living to fight
Why am I trying to see, when there aint nothing in sight
Why am I trying to give, when no one gives me a try
Why am I dying to live, if I'm just living to die?
someone tell me why" -- TAS