Oh lordy, I am so dang depressed today. To go along with the other days and days of depression. The moments where it lifts are so sweet. And I try and stay focused on the positive, the areas of movement. But then something will come smacking out of nowhere and I'm face down on the pavement again.
I think mostly it's about grief. Although failure is running a close second.
I hear the Hoon all the time. Or see him. Jacinta is still acting terribly off and spends most of her days on a high back shelf in a closet. Wallace just can't seem to kick the kitty flu he has, he struggles to breathe, and the vet says there's nothing more that can be done.
It's like I can't get any distance from death. It's in my space no matter how I turn. I hit and kill a beautiful bluebird with my car. I do the same with a squirrel. People keep telling me long, involved stories about their dead animals, relatives, friends.
Have I ever been happy? Is anyone? Does happy even matter? Is it even real?
When I look back at times of happiness, what I mostly see is how naive I was. Does this make me cynical? I look back at how oblivious I was to the dumptruck that was bearing down on me as I gorged myself on the happy. Is this just seeing how the Up is always followed by the Down? Is this even true that what goes up must come down?
Another 14 hour day tomorrow. Crazy shit. Crazy life.
I miss The Hoon . . .