“pray your life was just a dream” (MM)
I’m sinking without a trace beneath the waves of depression, a sea that has closed over me a hundred thousand times, so familiar that I almost enjoy the darkness, a place I can go where all I have to do is watch TV, read bad books, and wonder when I’m going to get the vacuum cleaner out to suck up all the dust bunnies. A few weeks of working hard to get a blog going, to get a novel on Authonomy (for the little that it’s worth), to do SOMETHING, ANYTHING because it had be better than nothing….it’s all gone flat. The pointlessness of my endeavours is much like all the others. I even wondered if I should just drop all these promotional ideas and get writing again. But I can hardly face it. I have wonderful, wonderful ideas and I just know I can’t do them justice. Not right now, anyway. I’m burnt out, written out, empty and hollow. The “novel” I wrote last year (a short story that just kept on going and going) is really just more garbage and probably the poorest thing I’ve written, enlivened only by sex and violence, particularly the latter, which really just makes me wonder where I’m at. All the light has gone out of me. This isn’t even the usual sort of depression where I feel frustrated and lose my temper for no reason. I don’t have a temper to lose. I have no energy. I’m just flat. Flatter than the fucking proverbial pancake.