OK, so maybe watching the new Tosca at the Met with all the talk of the “dark eyes” and “burning with love” has been a mistake…
Where can one obtain a new desire to live? My old OEM one came broken and never worked properly. 0 ⭐ – would not recommend.
Alas…I too have known love, that ruler of hearts, that soul of our soul: it’s never brought me anything except one kiss and twenty kicks in the rump. How could such a beautiful cause produce such an abominable effect on you?
Some things are timeless…
Depression is a Silent partner. It retreats to the dark corner where it probably sits by itself, face glued to a smartphone. It is socially awkward AF. It is also silently, sneakily poisoning you and everything you do and feel. And because it is silent, no one around you can hear it. They don’t notice it. They see just you and they don’t like what they see. They attribute the unlikeability to you for they do not see the silent partner. Or do they dislike you? Is it the silent partner that is making you think that? You march over to the dark corner – where it is sitting, face glued to the phone – to demand some answers! But the air is thick and murky, your feet feel heavy and tired, so you sit down and think “Not now. Maybe later.”. And you are both silent.
It is unfortunate that so many people out there struggle with suicidal thoughts. But you have to remember that there are people out there who truly hate you and you would do the world a great disservice by stopping to annoy those arseholes.
Here are some “next-day-after-spending-day-climbing-with-the-ex” thoughts: 1. It is unbearable to be just friends with someone you love, to stay calm and composed when all you ache to do is hug them, and kiss them, and never let go; and 2. I really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really need a drink. Also, kinda-sorta 3. I cannot stop living my life because our paths might cross on occasion.
Ok. So I spent the day rock climbing with a nice group of people that I have went with before. Except today the group included my ex. You know, the one this entire bloody blog is about.
So now we know two things. One, Yours Truly is doing much better than before. And two, I am still totally in live with her.
My mother is a rather lonely woman who does not have many people to talk to. So when we talk she constantly interrupts me. It has gotten to the point that if by some chance I manage to finish a thought or a story, I feel very uncomfortable.
That’s the birth of The Man in the Box.
Here’s how it didn’t work. I didn’t send my completed manuscript to five agents, and I didn’t get ten phone calls the next day begging me to become their client (instead, I got over 300 rejections).
The local news didn’t call me when I tweeted, “Book one: Done” (I didn’t have a Twitter account, yet).
Fox News, CNN, NBC, ABC – none of them…
View original post 534 more words