Last Friday, a lady was telling me about a two-year depression she'd gone through, where she wouldn't get out of her room, or see her friends - who were only really trying to help. Time took its toll and she lost track of most of them, only staying close to her family, pretty much.
And so I went home to my smallish apartment, alone, and wrote. And cleaned house, or at least tried to while envisioning myself doing it. And Saturday was much of the same, as was Sunday.
Sunny days, all of them, and I didn't even set foot on either one of my balconies.
My skin is whiter than Casper's - take your pick between the Friendly Ghost or the underhanded-rapist from the movie Kids, both are pretty fucking white, and I'm whiter than either of them. As a matter of fact, my skin colour this year is somewhere at the crossroads of transparent, translucent, green and yellow.
But, yeah. Maybe it's depression, or maybe just a dry spell. I'm always exhausted and have to over-amp myself on caffeine just to stay awake for a couple of hours at a time during the day - and yet I'm still pretty much an insomniac at night.
But I'm thinking about getting creative again. Writing music, blog posts, short stories. I always plow through, and I have no doubt I shall again. It's just that I have to dig so deep to find the motivation that many times it takes up all my energy just to get the will part.
But I'm getting there. Be patient with me, I won't be on this for two years - though funny folks might argue I've been there since 2005.
On the bright side, a homeless man told me ''Jesus loves you'' the other day, but he doesn't know any better. Jesus may or may not love me, but only he knows that; no, Jesus respects me as the improved version of what people thought he was, 2000 years down the evolutionary chain from an imaginary book character.
*for the record, while I may show some signs, I personally think I'm more just ''in a rut'' mixed with an unhealthy dose of procrastination.
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