And then there are feels like these

Mostly pleasant day with showers of sad, a mild case of witch. Showers strengthen in late afternoon to full-blown despair.

It has been more than nine months since the split, and here I am, still wanting a dank cave to fade away in. Don’t get me wrong, internet ghosts, I’ve had some good times in these nine months, but here I am driving around in circles. Have I made any progress on being a better, stronger person, more capable of living life the way I want? Maybe… Maybe not.

I’ve spent some solid time working on my artistic skills, but more time slumped in bed watching old TV shows. If nothing else, at least I can say I’ve lived my life as a model of depression. Thankfully there isn’t anyone handing out awards for such achievements.

Oh, I just came back from a holiday. I spent it in the lands of my youth with my boys and family. That was nice. That was when it all started building up again. Perhaps this is an indication that the nightly indulgence of a red or three had more of an impact on the medication than I previously thought? Or maybe I’m on the wrong meds, they do nothing and I just lucked out, snagging one of those “one in a thousand year” type breakups.

Then again… Come on, boy! Suck it up! Join the army and harden the fuck up already. Life isn’t some bleeding-heart liberal picnic. Life’s a war. It’s command and conquer and you’re either someone else’s grunt or you are the fucking commander in chief.

Reality bites.