33 feels like…

…It feels like this summer sucks. Last year, I was laughing my ass off, expanding my mind through wild conversations, going to the beach, getting rubbed and stroked, relieving a lot of stress, falling in love, and just spending time with My Best Friend. I honestly thought He’d be around until I wore Him out, or something.

Yeah, I had been to a wake. Yeah, I was depressed as hell. But the job was over for the year and I had big plans. Those big plans didn’t originally involve Bo, however. I had saved up some racks and intended to use them to travel…maybe up North to get some cheesesteaks or chicken gyros, or maybe to Key West to get some clear water and island sand. I went to neither because the popo came to my door, racism reared it’s ugly head, and I had to the use that money to protect a family member whose disability confuses people who like to use their privilege to act fearful. So instead, I got Bo and more Bo. And I wouldn’t trade that for anything. He was definitely a keeper. That’s why I had let Him remain on “my team” for so long. :)

So now that I’m 33 weeks without Him, I don’t feel the depression. I don’t know what I feel…if I feel. It rains every day and I enjoy it as it is the perfect reason to stay indoors and sleep. But my eyes don’t see the sun quite the same. The moon and stars aren’t as bright. My environment is otherwise muted and colorless. I’m waiting..waiting..waiting…for something…that I don’t think will ever come…And that is my happiness. But that’s okay. I’m settling for not having it. Fuck it.

In one year’s time, I’ve been on a roller coaster that dipped me below sea level (before Bo), rose me above the clouds (with Bo), and flat lined me (after Bo). And now I’m just riding it wondering where the hell I get to get off or maybe I can hope for it to crash. I never liked roller coasters. Even the Scooby Doo at King’s Dominion was a bit too much for me.

I picked up some weight around the time that I finally finished that old grad class. I’ve kept it on for two months now. I’m not back up to the weight I was before Bo died and I hope never to be. I loved how flat my stomach got back then during the thick of the grief. So, this past weekend, I locked myself in my room and only came out once each day to eat. I don’t know what that was about. Certainly it is not a good weight loss method. But I just didn’t want to see anyone or talk to anyone. I want to be alone.

I hadn’t been able to take any naps, maybe due to anxiety, I don’t know, but I had been exhausted so I didn’t understand what the hold up was. I went ahead and took an anti-anxiety med this past week just for the hell of it. I wanted to feel like what I felt like when I was taking them back in November when I just wanted to die so badly. It felt so good. It felt good to be dizzily sedated and run into walls and crawl up the stairs and sleep without thoughts, or at least without remembering them. I have to do that again sometime.

I’m tired of 33.

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The following stories are linked in the one above. It helps me to know where I’ve been and where I’m going.