Seems everybody wants me to prove something lately. I have to prove to the government that I'm still crazy. I also have to prove that I can't afford to pay back Social Security the thousands that they say they overpaid me. I have to prove to the student loan people that I'm able to go back to school part-time. I have to prove to the apartment people that Kyber and Zelda are emotional support animals. Most of all I have to prove to myself that I can do this and remain focused.
I'm always having to prove something to someone. Why does one have to keep proving disability for a mental illness? It's not like I'm going to be cured. I mean, bipolar sleeps sometimes, and then one day, BAM! You're crying hysterically in the shower trying to justify to yourself that it's necessary to wash your body. It takes me no less than a half hour every single fucking day to convince myself to take a shower. I have to talk myself into brushing my teeth. There's no one here to convince me, I have to do it myself. After I'm done, I have to take a cat nap.
It's the same with eating. I hate eating actually. I get hungry but I hate eating. I hate cooking because by the time I finish, I don't want whatever it is I was cooking. It takes at least a half hour to decide I'm going to eat, and longer still if I am trying to eat something healthy. I think the only thing I do automatically is make my bed. I conditioned myself to make my bed as soon as I get up to prevent getting back in the bed and writing off the day as a major mistake. So, I do it.
Everything is a chore lately. I keep trying to tell myself that I'm not depressed, but I'm lying. The truth is I'm tired. I'm tired of tryin. I'm tired of praying. I don't want to be an adult anymore. I just want to sleep late, drink coffee and go shopping. Why is that so wrong? Whose idea was this adult thing anyway? Why do we have to grow up and get jobs? Why is that the goal? Who invented society and why does society get to dictate who and what I am?
There was a time in history when people like me would go away for a while to a nice place where they could rest away from the hustle and bustle that is life. We suffer from melancholia. I could use a place like that now. I talk to a therapist everyday, I'd take walks by a lake and rest on a lounge chair under a tree. Why can't I do that? Why does every Sunday night find me in front of my laptop typing away my anxieties about facing another day and week at a job I can't stand. When will things change?
I have important decisions to make. People are looking at me and calling me asking for answers. I don't have any answers. I can't think that far ahead anymore. It hurts when I do. I just wish everyone would leave me alone. Stop talking, and pressuring and asking. The truth is I don't know. I don't know what, when or why. So, please stop talking at me. One day I hope to retreat into the fantasies in my mind where everything is quiet, and cool. Just a slight breeze, fragrance in the air and me by a tree next to a lake.