Why does everything feel so bad? I feel like I’m doing nothing. I feel like I’m doing nothing worthwhile. I feel like my life has been pointless. I feel like I’m falling apart.

It’s just because you’re sick, she tells me. You’re just a little sick right now.

I didn’t teach today. I wanted to write. I didn’t. I slept for three hours this afternoon. I woke up exhausted. My mind is slipping away.

That’s the depression talking. It will pass. It will pass. It will pass,
won't it?

I feel like nobody loves me. I feel all alone. I feel like my world is crumbling and I’m too damn lazy to stop it.

…you're honing your craft…you’re writing... she argues... you aren’t doing nothing at all...

I don’t know. I just don’t know. I doubt these words are worth it -- worth anything at all.  I doubt it.

...a website, a blog, some loyal readers: what more could you ask for?

To feel it. To feel my successes. To feel like my mind matters—has something valuable to offer.

The breeze brushes my face on the highways. I open all the apartment windows as soon as I get home. The autumn air is cooling. The sunlight warms the kitten as he stretches on the floor. There’s beauty in every moment that I still notice.  I just can’t feel anymore.

I lay on the couch. I don’t want this deadness. I’m working.  I’m trying. I can't stop this. I really don’t know anything anymore.

You’re just a little sick, I tell myself. And then I’m crying.

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