A BRAIN LIKE STALE BREAD

JOURNAL ENTRY – STALE BREAD

I wake up after hours, almost a day, of sleeping and roll from my bed to the chair in my living room. I thought dismantling my TV would keep me from falling into a tvpression but now I only watch my one DVD over and over and over to the point that I hope I’ll come to be over it and get my ass up and out of my apartment. But I don’t. I continue to watch it, and am thankful to have something to watch. My brain is stale bread but not hard. It’s just stale, sitting there on the shelf of my head and flat as a pancake. I have no thoughts, no words, no passion, nothing. I thank God I have no phone calls to return because it gives me a panic attack to have to check my messages to hear someone on the other end wanting to know where I am, what I’ve been “up to.” And I can’t say absolutely nothing because they know. The people left holding onto an absent friend know about me and would think things about my state of mind. I don’t want to burden anyone with my sterile world, but maybe that’s a lie. I don’t want the burden of people knowing and having them think about it, or try and talk to me about it, because no one has any idea what my world is here stuck in my hollow apartment where the only thing keeping me cognate of some relationship to life is my cat. I wish I could just cry and let it all out so I can be done with this. But I can’t. It’s worse. I feel nothing but am sure what with all the personal pressure to stay on top of my mental state, go running, be productive (whatever the hell that means at this point) which is void is a deep internal long cry that has no end. I went to Santa Barbara to the premiere of my friend’s film and drove home with light on my cheeks. I wish I knew what was that thing that made me get up and go. I know i'm scared for myself and the myriad of days and days going by with nothing other than some cheese and a screen. Even preparing my plate of cheese and crackers is doing something that makes me feel alive. So it would be nice to capture whatever made me get in my car and drive in a jar and breath into it when I am scared again. How does fear lead to strength I’ll never know. I was anxious when I was trying to get out of the city mostly because I slept 14 hours and was 6 hours behind my attempt of a schedule. I only spent one night out of the city and actually had someone say I was glowing when I went to my usual local market to get some more cheese. Just that little accomplishment brought some life back into my face.