It’s Friday night and I’m still my regular sort of irregular. Well, this irregularity was regular this week. For the whole week, I couldn’t concentrate. I was sad with no particular reason. Depressed for no particular reason. Nothing would keep my attention. And, at least for me, it was not an ordinary kind of sadness.

I really do think it was some sort of chemical shift. Rather than enjoying my space and my silence, I felt lonely and vulnerable. I felt forgotten. I try to work but it doesn’t come. I try to play but it doesn’t come. None of my indulgences restored me. TV became lights and nonsense words. These words are pointless and stupid and, after a week, tired too.

I don’t like feeling fragile, vulnerable, lonely. Generic fragility, generic apathy is about as interesting as generic euphoria and just as lazy. I tried to play my own therapist. You know, if I had one. I tried to figure out what was making me feel fragile and vulnerable and lonely and lost and forgotten and I wasn’t terribly successful. Usually I feel at least somewhat successful. I try to be aware of myself as much as I can. Sometimes I fail miserably. This week, I failed.

But it’s time to go. It’s time to stop. Knock it off. So I’m calling it chemical shifting and I’m putting it aside. I’ve looked at some online journals. There are a lot of bored people out there. Too many people who seem to like to cut themselves so they can feel sensations. I don’t want to sound like I’m ever that far gone. There are plenty of sensations to feel and there is plenty of life to live.

I’m going to take Murphy for a long walk tomorrow. I’m going to call people I’ve been thinking about tomorrow, old friends I’ve been missing. I may even have some friends over. I need interaction. Tomorrow, I’m going to shake this.

SS