Days like these

How do other people manage?  Going about the mindlessness of life.  I guess they drink themselves silly and distract themselves with other meaningless things.  Squabbles over stupid crap or finding something they can say serves as an interest or something they can tell an interviewer they do in their free time.  Even though all of this essentially serves no purpose, at least they have other people and money and can put aside for a moment the general zombification of being a wage slave, the growing dissatisfaction with Western life.

I can feel the pain building inside me, even though they’ve tried to numb me to it.  I can feel it like the pressure of a boiler building up inside of me and the whole time it calls me to relieve it.  I don’t know how to do so besides cutting off the power entirely.  Boy, that would be a dream.

I never had days where I’d wake up but not really wake up, if you know what I mean.  Where I’d be… well, I can’t explain it.  I’m too tired to even think straight.  I’d spend all day sleeping or in a state of daze.  It’s starting to happen.  Today, despite being on medication that makes me sleep, I woke up multiple times during the night, ending on a bad dream to boot.  Despite getting up, I went to the couch for a little but and next I knew it wasn’t 11:30 anymore but almost 3.  Only a phone call from some unknown idiot place that has called me several times a day for weeks woke me.  Still tired.  Then I went to a pointless meeting with the nurse practitioner.  Still tired.

I’m medicated, perhaps over-medicated, on shit that can’t help me.  I threw away my medication once, years ago, when I got sick of it.  And now it’s back.  It makes me even more of a zombie.  If I can feel nothing, it must be true, regardless of how long I’ve done nothing.  I’m tired of being tired and numb.  I hate simply existing for the sake of existing.  But what can I do?  How do I fix this?

I don’t think anything can suffice, honestly.  Besides not enjoying anything, besides having no money, besides being alone… even if I weren’t tired, numbed, sedated.  Someone told me you can learn to be an adult at any age.  I don’t think it to be possible.  That only I can change it is correct, but it’s like the Metallica song.  Only I can save myself, but it’s too late.  Too much damage was done to me before I even knew what was going on.  And the world is the kind of worthless place that doesn’t have a place for someone like me.  I cannot live, but I cannot die, either.  The thought of dying before experiencing anything good in life appalls me, and yet it is the choice I would take if I could.

What the hell am I supposed to do, man?  Why do they keep stringing me along, forcing me to exist when I need to sleep?  I feel like it looks outside – muffled, lifeless, snowed under.  I am very sick.  Very sick indeed.  I need medication?  I need a life, which is incompatible with me… freedom is a lie.  No amount of counseling can save me from this malaise, can make me an acceptable part of this world.  I am the forgotten one.

I am half-sick of shadows.