Yesterday was a tough day. I went out for my usual morning walk and felt a bit down, normal for my pre-coffee self. I had an impulsive feeling that I want to throw my life away. Which made me want to drink. And I told myself that I wasn’t drinking and I’d have to just deal with these feelings. I got my coffee and walked to my spot in the park.
I sat there sad in all black under the grey sky surrounded by the dusting of white snow and let myself be sad. It was cold and I liked it.
Eventually, two vinyl cafe stories and a Neverending White Lights album later, I went into the mall and wrote a blog. It’s been too cold to write at my spot. I forget what I listened too while I wrote but it was two albums.
I got sushi for lunch and listened to 2 more Joe Firstman albums. I took the handful of supplements that supposedly make people feel better. I wandered around. I got another coffee.
Wandering around the bookstore always makes me happy, although I am close to exhausting the sections, I will have browsed every shelf in the building by the end of the week. I told myself to stop buying books for the time being, I’ve got four or five books to go through before I’d be starting them away and I spend all my time writing instead of reading anyway.
I went home.
Then I left to wander around again.
I feel more at home walking around in the cold with headphones in than I do in that apartment, than I do anywhere.
I walked an hour or so down Elbow, took a left to start walking back via McLeod. Listening to Frank Turner’s The First Three Years. It’s good.
It was during that walk that I shifted from feeling sad to not seeing any alternative to killing myself.
I thought about texting Maria “cheer me up” but I told myself to leave her alone, stop being an affection-vampire, and don’t drag normal people into my sinkhole. I thought about texting Mandi which of course desperately bummed me out.
I did text Mikey for a coffee date because I’m still forcing myself to be social.
I did stop at Dennys because I still need coffee and food.
I went to Dragonette. Mostly I’m just bored of not drinking and being there with Simone was awful. I was glad to lose myself in the crowd. It was a great show, I felt good during.
I instantly started feeling bad again afterward.
I went to Trash’s birthday at Distortion after, Simone went to Vern’s. I listened gracefully to a drunk on the train talk about jujitsu, he said I look like Connor MacGregor.
I was welcomed with love by Trash, Mark, Jim, it was nice. Trash was the least messed up I’ve ever seen him. He was articulate and insightful, forward thinking, and he really had a spark in his eyes. He’s an interesting cat.
I still felt sad inside though. The suicide fairy was still whispering in my ear that this moment, sober and dressed like a hipster being embraced as a friend by a few important people and a total stranger to most, felt like one of those perfect things to be the last time someone saw me.
Pervcore is still great though. The last band was good too but being sober and unhappy I knew that I just needed to get to bed so I didn’t stay.
Simone stayed at vern’s though. I couldn’t sleep because all the times she’s been at vern’s and I’ve been home in bed that became disasters kept flashing through my mind. I’d rather stay up and deal with a crying puking drunk than wake up in bed with a crying puking drunk. Or to the news that someone got stabbed. or just to her continued absence which makes me worry that something bad happened to her.
I took a shower and thought about how unhappy I am, how I’ll never be happy. Just dwelling and repeating, staring catatonic. I thought about everyone getting the news that I’m dead. And like I said here once before, it’s much more cinematic in my mind than it would be in real life.
Simone came home okay around five, just to close that loop for you, dear reader.
I slept. I got up and my first thoughts were searching myself for the unhappiness. And it’s still there.
Drinking let me satisfy the urge to throw my life away and it let me push the reset button by waking up from a blank.
It was an effective pressure valve. When I read that giving up alcohol leads to depression I got excited. Trying to kill myself while drunk wasn’t working but I thought if I could immerse myself in inescapable depression maybe I could do it.
And that’s certainly how it felt yesterday.