I feel myself growing tired, eyes drying up, mouth sliding downward. I just don’t care, my give a shit is busted. I had the wherewithal to put on mascara before I left because I’m not completely gone, but didn’t bother with the concealer to hide the purple under my eyes, or with brushing my hair.
It just doesn’t even matter. No one cares what I look like. I feel tired, I feel the weight on my eyes, sagging my face. I think, I want to lose 30 pounds, I think I want to eat pastries, I think I want to sleep.
Maybe that’s what I’ll do when I get off shift. I’ll just take out my contacts and crawl into bed. I could put my ipod on, if it’s charged. Listen to Augusten Burrough’s audiobook again. The one where he goes through alcohol addiction.
My eyes hurt and I don’t want to use them. I don’t want to eat dinner. I don’t want to talk to my roommate. I don’t want to pretend not to feel depressed. I’ll tell her my cold has returned and I’m going to bed. She’ll be playing sims with the audio turned up. She doesn’t give a shit if the sound bothers me. She mopes too. She thinks somehow she has it worse than me. She doesn’t. At least she has work, a job where her choices matter. Nothing I do matters at all.
This is my life. My pathetic little life. Why do I try so hard? What does it even matter? No one cares about my day to day. No one loves me. No one touches me. I have more intimacy with subway strangers than anyone else. That’s the hard one to cope with. The one that makes me think about the last letter I’ll ever write.
I’m also down right now. I know this. I’ll get back up again, I always do. I am a stubborn Taurus, bull headed and slow witted, too stupid to give up. Let me feel shitty and vent and get these depressive thoughts out. It’s not that I feel this all the time, just that I feel it right now and lately, often.