I broke down crying a moment ago as I was lying, laying in the bed. This deep feeling of doom and dread overcame me. I wanted to sleep, but couldn't no matter how hard I tried. I just lay there feeling miserable.
"You could be homeless again," I told myself as I wiped the tears from my eyes trying to make myself feel better. I jumped up from the bed and began to furiously pace the floors in my house. I took a video, but thought it would scare people away of me furiously walking and talking to myself.
I don't feel well today. I feel restless and can't get contentment out of anything. I am just this being. Existing and taking up space and breathable air. I was watching my neighbor, Ed, rake Joyce's yard clear of pine straw a moment ago and I felt worthless and tired. He has worked all day just to help a neighbor. Ed is eighty years old and I am thirty-five and should be doing that for Joyce. It just added to the mental anguish I am experiencing today. I felt like a lump on a log.
"You could be homeless. You could be homeless. You could be homeless," I kept telling myself as I paced the floors in my home after trying to sleep. Reminding myself of that cold Christmas of 2003 I spent in a tent in God's country.
I can't get contentment out of the Internet. I can't concentrate on or read books. I can't watch any TV as my attention span is shot to hell from all these medications. I can barely listen to the radio. I just don't know what to do with myself. I need a job so badly it is pitiful. I am spinning my wheels here in Alabama with each day growing more withdrawn, secluded, and cut off from the world.
I started to brainstorm to have a house and car sale. I wanted to sell everything in my house to get up the money to move to Nashville to be homeless. There, I would have structure, The Rescue Mission is a very structured environment. I would probably have a better diet and more regular meals. I could find dozens of AA meetings to go to in the day. I wouldn't be so lonely. I would be forced to be around people and to not isolate like I am doing now. I know exactly what "The Homeless Guy" was feeling when he gave up his apartment to live homeless again. This loneliness can make you despondent.
C' est le vie! Such is life! Maybe I will feel better in the morning. I certainly feel better writing about it and it is better to write about it than to drink over it. I am just crazy as fuck and it amazes me people have befriended me on the Internet and read this blog. If they only knew what a de rigueur my days were then they wouldn't want to be my friend. One day, fine. The next day, crazy as hell. I hate mental illness. I do my best to hide it on this blog. I am just scared and lonely and feel horrible, and it makes for a cluster fuck of an embarrassing blog post.