Drag, drag, drag.
I don’t know why I bother to get out of bed. I don’t want to do this anymore. Can I please get off?
I have three days of long weekend and nothing happening. Nothing will happen tomorrow, nothing will happen the day after that. On the holiday Monday nothing will happen.
There are two possibilities for tomorrow. It will either be pain or boredom. The day after that there are two possibilities, pain or boredom. As far back as I can remember every day has been either pain or boredom. As far into the future that I look I see only pain or boredom.
I’ve decided to stop taking the anti-depressants. They don’t fix anything and I hate the side effects and dietary restrictions.
(I find it amusing that they call them side effects – with modern anti-depressants the side effects are actually more reliable than any effect they have on depression. Ninety-six percent of all people who start taking antidepressants experience a change in their sexual function and the best they hope for is around 20% of people taking an SSRI will gain a benefit.)
Can I die?
Will somebody please kill me?
If I curl up in this corner and sob quietly will I still get paid? Can I pay my rent if all I ever do is cry?
I like the idea of getting on a plane to the US, going to a gun show in one of those gun-toting redneck states to get a nice large pistol and taking a hike out into the woods.
Would riding my scooter under a truck hurt? It looks easy. Seventy kilometres an hour down the Gore Hill Freeway – just one little twitch and I’m under a truck.
Do I have to play this game? Can’t I lose gracefully?