lather. rinse. repeat.

suicide seems to make so much sense when you’re in the pit, but once you think through the details, the sheen wears off pretty quick. But then you’re left in that horrible in-between: so sad crying doesn’t help. so full of despair that the idea of a light at the end of the tunnel is an impossible dream. every attempt at a positive thought is snuffed before it even fully forms. the mind is a powerful ogre shouting “DON’T EVEN BOTHER”. it’s strange that even muscles ache. fingernails suddenly sprout nerves and “feel” pain. there’s no escaping it. sitting lifeless in a bath of lukewarm anguish

STOP FEELING SORRY FOR YOURSELF

PULL YOURSELF UP BY YOUR BOOTSTRAPS

GET IT TOGETHER

you have to shout louder than the ogre if you’re going to get to work on time.

SMILE AT YOUR KID

SMILE AY YOUR WIFE AND TELL HER YOU LOVE HER

keep shouting. maybe the ogre will leave today. and that’s the fun part. wondering how long he’s here, and wondering if he’s even in charge, I mean.. it’s my brain, right? I can tell my brain what to do and feel, RIGHT?

work. why do I bother coming here? there’s no challenge. the world is no better or worse for my klickety klacking on the keys. sip a hot chocolate. sip a coke zero. smile and nod at the mikes and the gerry’s who complain their way into and out of my cube. drink water. notice the perfume of the pretty lady who sits a few cubes over. wonder when I’ll have a boss. wonder what the point is. sneak out a little early.

a good song on the radio during my commute. then a commercial. a quick switch over to NPR gives two depressing stories and ten minutes of pledge drive before I realize it and change it back for the commercial. turn it off only realize that the “silence” is actually the sound of my rotted away muffler that I have no money to fix. oh no... not the money spiral. it’s one of the ogre’s favorite tools. he grins. no money for a muffler because the wife’s root canal “went bad” and the trip to the specialist exhausted the dental benefit for the year... and that was back in february. who knew dental insurance had an annual cap of $2500. I know it now. driving in the “silence” is now actually hurting my ears. unmuffled cars are really loud and music just tricks me into not thinking about. muffler. dental bills. oil leak. christmas presents. food for thanksgiving. new shoes cuz the kid’s toe is sticking out. first world problems I guess. the ogre loves to ride the money train. I wonder when he's leaving

family time should be the happiest time of the day. and I guess, on balance, it probably is. their faces are so perfect. they represent what I know should be feelings of love. I should feel something. but if I allow feelings the tears come. I keep things locked up for now. It’s better this way. at least until he's gone.

lay in bed and pretend to sleep until I hear her breathing slow. sneak into the living room hoping that reading will trick my eyes into feeling tired. the ogre loves reading time; my eyes can process a couple pages before realizing that nothing has actually made it past him. He’s right, I am worthless. I can’t do this. I can’t make it another hour, let alone through tomorrow, or another week. I really have no reason to live. The insurance money will give them a better life than I am providing now, and I’m well past the suicide clause. (it’s only two years - and I’ve had the policy six now).

so that’s it then. kill myself or fall asleep before I do anything stupid. maybe the ogre will be gone in the morning. It’s the worst kind of race you can imagine. suicide seems to make so much sense when you’re in the pit. but then... I mean, it’s the details. I don’t want the kid to find me. I don’t want her to find me. that’s just horrible and selfish. suicide loses its sheen pretty quick.

I realy need to fall asleep. ugh. if I fall asleep, it’s just that much sooner that tomorrow comes.

lather.

rinse.

repeat.

maybe I’ll try to write something.