There's one thing that I just hate about my life. No matter how well things are going for me...no matter how many goals I've accomplished...no matter how nice and sunny it is outside...no matter how healthy I'm being...no matter WHAT.
Some days I just have this feeling of crushing isolation and loneliness and misery.
Like a dark shroud hanging a funereal pall over every thought, every experience. Some malevolent emotional backlash, doing it's best to crush my spirit into the ground like the dirty, tar-stained cigarette butt that I'm sure it resembles by now.
Today's a lovely, bright beautiful day and I don't have to work. In a little while I'm to spend time with my friends and smile and have a fun afternoon and evening. In the meantime, I'm being useful and comfortable and everything is fine! So how come I feel like everyone I've ever known or loved is a million miles away and I'm dying by degrees here alone in some ash-choked, desolate and forgotten valley? Why have I been fighting back tears all morning? Why do I have the (thankfully controllable) urge to lash out at any stranger who dares to approach? Why do I feel this way? I'm 36 years old...shouldn't I have grown out of moodiness for no reason by now? Is it a brain-injury thing? Too many concussions in the past = dark days in the future? I don't know. I wish I did.
At least as I get older I can recognize my feelings and know that this black mood is fleeting...even if it sometimes feels like it will always be this way...even if my heart bleeds and begs me to just give up...give in to the inevitable. I will not go...
For every valley there is a peak...the wheel's always turning. In my head I know it.
Still...how I hate these moods.
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