I am a broken wretched soul incarcerated in a rotting sack of untoned meat and too much fat, harrowed by the lack of anything approaching companionship. I have a funny taste in my mouth from the whiskey and coke, I've just tabbed out of WoW and I'm listening to Evanescence's new album.
My clothes are as black as the pit my depression resembles, and my skin is as untouched by the sunlight as it is by womenfolk. I'm newly unemployed, but wholly unenthused to sign on to jobseeker's allowance simply because the JobCentre is such a harrowing experience to go through.
My headphones screech at my mind with their multitude of loose connections akin to harpies savaging my eardrums with their ebony talons rife with disease and filth.
I grow short of breath, for hours of shallow breathing huddled over the false light of the monitor have left my lungs temporarily weakened, and the stale air helps not a jot.
I crack my bones and stretch my muscles just to make sure they're still there and have not withered away their capacity to feel, because nobody else is going to check for me. Nobody sits beside me and caresses my arm simply for something to do.
I wake and sleep later and later simply because the daylight holds nothing for me. The night holds just as much as an empty promise but at least the air is crisper and the glaring photons of Sol do not judge me then. My fondest wish at these times, the hours I spend wandering the streets aimlessly, is that I'll find another like me, and we shall both know peace or something like it, but I am not naive enough to think this is a real possibility, and I both see and do not see my own self-deception.
... but other than that, I'm just fine.
