End of Summer Suicide Attempt

So that’s it, it’s over. That thing that lasts about 3 months in Michigan. Summer has said it’s goodbye and all I can think about is snow, leafless trees, and filthy salt covered roads. Seasonal depression is a bitch. We kicked off the end of summer with one final hurrah at the parent’s house. About 20 of our friends stopped by, all with some food, and good times were had. I could have sat back and simply watched it all happen. My lack there of for conversation with anyone has been rather serious. People talk and I try my hardest to listen. In the past month I have only been giving about 10% of myself. The rest is just for me. Well, me, my bed, and my TV.

 I managed to play with a wine bottle opener for about 30 minutes. It amused me the way it looked like a little man with hands. Amused me even more the way it looked like an “excited” little man with hands when the cork screw was coming out the bottom of it. It’s the little things as of late. The bigger things are far too vast for me to wrap my brain around them. I like to think that thought is simply far too overrated. I like to think that I can meditate my life away if I try hard enough. But life continues to go on and so do the people in it. For me it’s just another day within another month that closes out another year.

 On a brighter note this is a pic of my pup Khayman. Named after one of the vampires in an Anne Rice novel and not the island. She’s an old girl at almost 12. Last night  she and I shared a bit of a moment under the stars. There were’t stars actually. It rained all damn day so it was more of a dark overcast. I told her how I seem to no longer have the strength to do all of this bullshit anymore. She looked up at me with those big brown eyes and gave me a little lick on the hand. I wasn’t ashamed that I was talking to my fucking dog. I was frightened by the fact that talking to a human about all of this is far more unusual to me. Happiness is hard to retain. Depression feels too much like home. My goal is to get comfortable in that place in between. That place where I can talk to humans and only truly freak out when the dog talks back.

This is where I am today. I know that there are others that are far worse off, but sometimes we just need to be honest with ourselves. Sometimes it’s okay to stop fighting it and forget how to smile. Because any smile upon these lips at this moment would be less believable than my dog telling me to up my medication.

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