Last Night I was Lost in Thought. Today... I'm Just Lost.

The blinking cursor compels me to write - it's what's keeping me going. Like regular people are fueled by coffee or whatever other vice is considered normal and acceptable. I take coffee too... I try to fit in. But coffee alone isn't enough to jump-start my day, my thoughts, my whole being... I think I died during the 90's and never quite got my whole soul back. My life was over even before it began. I am a walking corpse, a walking cautionary tale, a walking disaster, a living-dead memory somebody fights hard to forget. I have my own memories... memories I would like to bury deep in the past. But they are constantly being brought back to life by the trivialities that surround me daily. My memories are open wounds that never healed properly. I fear that my emotional death might be diagnosed as depression or other fabulous psychiatric fashionable label. I have the latest medication to prove it... Last night I took 2 tablets and stared myself in the mirror. I told myself I was dead. I told myself I was an abject being, a fat lump of useless waste of space. I wanted to sleep. I took another tablet. I spun around in my bed... restless, sleepless. I told myself I was so useless I couldn't even sleep. Then I was perfectly still and the room around me was spinning and I felt like I was sinking, I felt like I was actually dead and I smiled. I closed my eyes. It seemed just for a second. I opened my eyes and it was morning. The church bells were ringing... they pounded loudly in my ears and I just wanted to fall back down in the hole I had fallen just a few seconds ago. I wanted to drift off again so I could live in those few seconds before you fall asleep where you can't remember who you are or where you came from. I wanted amnesia. I wanted something other than this lifeless  existence. I wanted to be brought back to life somehow. I wanted the 90's to be erased. I wanted my years back, my life back. I wanted everything that was taken from me. And as I awoke all of those feelings came rushing in and I cried. My pillow soaked in tears made me get up and drag this lumpy corpse to the bathroom where I started to go about my day. I had coffee. I read. I had lunch. I listened to music. I stared at my guitar. I picked up a book and flipped through it's pages. I couldn't concentrate. The cursor was blinking for over 45 minutes before I even started to write. And now... it is almost 6 p.m. and I haven't even gotten out of my pj's. I wasted a whole day. I just sat here at my desk. Reading, thinking... remembering. Lost.