Niftyfingers » I used to dream of unicorns

I used to dream of unicorns

April 26, 2006 at 10:21 pm

The more difficult aspect about today was knowing what’s going on and not being able to DO anything about it. I went from a morning of feeling good, though slightly diluted compared to prior days, to an afternoon lunch spent freaking out in my car. I know I’m falling. After fighting unsuccessfully, I knew the crash would happen eventually but I tried to distract.

It’s as if I’m sliding, banging all sides of a tunnel as I clang my way down, just wishing for the final smack. An hour of punching a bag and instead of the usual euphoria and excitement throughout I was making odd faces to hide the sadness and pounding the tiles under the shower water.

I wish to call in a sick tomorrow and while technically that’s the case, only the one coworker with experience in mental health would understand. They must wonder what’s up anyhow, as my desk was painstakenly organized this morning, file folders re-labelled, computer and inbox files cleaned out, drawers organized, and tasks I’ve put off for days were completed.

Yet, my room is a mess, I’m unable to focus long enough to put all clothes away, incoming papers are in a lopsided pile on corner table, toys in random containers, though…oh, oh, the floor…clear. For if a paper or cord falls in my way I’m quite sure my patiently contained anger will regain control of me once again and I’ll throw the closest object, or yell at the absurdity of everything.

But my bed, my bed is my home in a few minutes, to an exhausted slumber. The cool sheets and summery comforter will engulf me and I’ll slip, to the few hours without racing thoughts or unexplained sadness, to sleep.

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