Taking a page out of Timothy Goodman’s book:
It’s 4:18, I’m in a coffee shop loud with children and people who don’t know how to be silent, be still. It’s 4:19 now and I have no desire to be here, not the coffee shop, but this life, I have no desire to to exist. An acquaintance saw me earlier and said tell me something good and all I could come up with was the lie of “I’m alive”. That’s not something good. I tried to start practicing gratitude daily, by tweeting what I’m grateful for every morning and I haven’t been able to come up with anything for the past 2 mornings. I can’t get my brain to focus on a positive thing. I got some money today, not enough for anything but better than nothing. I should be grateful for that, but I’m not, because I still cannot pay this month’s rent 22 days later. It’s raining now. Again. And I feel trapped, not in this coffee shop, but in myself, in this gloom, in this grey space where existing feels like drowning, and fighting to get to the surface, fighting to breathe again, except, I’m tired, so I’m really not fighting, I’m just sinking deeper and deeper and deeper….it’s 4:24pm.