Bad Day

I won’t take my meds today. Think what you will of this, I don’t find that it helps. I long to go and sit in a Buddhist temple. But I don’t know of any. Maybe I’ll get on a bus tomorrow and just go to one. I need some kind of peace.

My mother is still off somewhere, helping my sister move in to prepare for her kid. Something she’ll never help me do. And I don’t have my service dog yet. Today is the most isolated I have felt in a long time. I crave some kind of peace and I find none. Sleeping doesn’t even bring its usual relief. Everyone my age (that I can see) are having all of the things that I have ever wanted. And in no universe am I okay with this. I have my reasons, but no, I’m not okay with it. I want to go and talk somewhere with a monk, ask him about my depression, and beg for some way to peace, someone to pray and meditate with. Because this life just isn’t working.

Today was almost day 1. Instead of 682. God, why does time go so fucking slow?

I’m listening to the music from before I left almost a year ago, because I can feel the apathy now, though I can’t decide if it’s better than excruciating pain. They are both evil. And he’ll never read any of this. So it doesn’t matter what the hell I write. I try to wish people well, even him, but tonight all I feel is alone and it is cripplingly painful.

About masterpieceofadisaster

Alias: Kuckoo Savant
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