The weekend was like a punch to the stomach, leaving me stunned and breathless.
Oh, Life, why ya gotta do me like that?! Right when I think things are looking up, you knock me back down.
This is ridiculous. I need to get it together. What am I so bummed about anyway?
some stupid shit that happened at work? A parking ticket? A lame fight with my fucking idiot* ex?
Get over it, girl. Move on. Let go. Keep it together. Get up. Seize the day.
I'm trying, but it's just so easy to let the sadness take over, to dwell on it, to soak it all up.
I feel like a little girl who's just skinned her knee, wishing mommy would come with a loving embrace and say "everything is going to be alright."
But sadly I'm an adult, and I'm all alone.
So instead I just keep saying it to myself: "everything is going to be alright. Everything is gonna be okay. Everything will be fine."
And there it is: hope. It's always there, though sometimes it hides in the shadows where I can barely see it. Sometimes I even try to ignore it, I tell it to go away, tell myself that hope is a lie and nothing is going to get better.
But it never leaves me completely. I even have the word tattooed on my left hip. A constant reminder that things are never so bad they can't be made worse. It's hope that keeps me here, on this planet, fighting this overwhelming battle against myself.
The sunshine seems daunting today. I want to hide in my dark apartment and cuddle with my sadness, smoking one cigarette after another and listening to Hank Williams moan about being so lonesome he could cry. Sing it, brother! It's a sad country music kind of a day.
"I gotta feelin' called the bluuuuuueeeeessss…."
But even though I feel like hell, the hope is still there, singing backup.
The aforementioned "fucking idiot ex" never fully understood how my mind works. I remember one day, when I was feeling low, he told me I should make a gratitude list (but not before reading me a bunch of dumb shit by Marianne Williamson or someone like that). This advice was met with an eye roll and a "you just don't get it."
Okay, fine. I'll take that advice today. Here's my fucking gratitude list, asshole:
I am grateful for having Mondays off, so I can have a day to stew in my depression. A day to do nothing and not be bothered.
I am grateful for black coffee and cigarettes.
I am grateful for music and old black & white movies.
And last but not least, I'm grateful for my hope. That inner Pollyanna who let's me pray that tomorrow will be a better day.
So I pray. I pray to every deity I can think of: God, Buddha, Allah, the Gods and Goddesses of Mount Olympus, Mother Earth, even L. Ron Hubbard. Whoever is out there, whoever you are, please help me out right now!
Oh God, please let tomorrow be a better day.
*okay, so it's a bit unfair to call my ex a "fucking idiot". He's a decent human being and I wish him the best. I'm just a little pissed right now,and find sick satisfaction in juvenile name calling. Forgive me.