During the day, it’s fine. I can forget. I can push it to the back of my head, willingly or unwillingly. But at night…there’s something so beautiful about the night. It’s dark and melancholy and begs you to ask what you did with its sister. I sometimes have a good answer. I can go to sleep happy. I can be ok.
But when I don’t…when it’s been one of those days when all you’ve done is avoid what you know you should have done…then the darkness turns. It shifts form and becomes something that swallows you whole.
Maybe all this unwillingness to do stuff that I don’t want to do is a sign of something bigger than just my inner darkness and failed (failing?) projects. Do crazy people know they’re crazy? Do depressed people know they’re depressed?
For some reason I think it should be accompanied by tears and deep introspection – neither of which I bother with (avidly). When I voice it I feel like I sound ridiculous or selfish – what do you mean, you don’t feel like coming to/taking me to/dancing with? When I tell him, he shows concern and then nods off to sleep…listening to someone talking about the same thing again and again can’t be fun when you’re sleepy. And then because he is snoring beside me and I feel overwhelmed by the ocean of thoughts within me, I sleep. Not because I am resolved and a new creature, but because I am too tired to keep fighting today.