Wednesdays In The Shroud

Wednesdays are so painful.

I have not won this battle yet. The worst day was the first day back after extended vacation/Nashville.

A Thursday. Bad enough on the face of it. But, in addition, I went to bed at midnight on Wednesday night betting that I would sleep through to the 5:15 alarm.

I did not.

I woke up at 2:30. Sleep was spotty - off and on - until 5:15. I was furious. And tired.

So I did not handle that day well. I was a bit testy. 

Today. Today was fucking hell. I have too much time to think on Wednesdays after 4 days of actually semi-living. Up at 7:15 today, left the house like the Walking Dead at 11:00.

Head down, spirits down, hopes down, soul suffocated. A wonderful way to start the day.

I was a bit testy. And my mind, my mind screamed at me non-stop "What the fuck are you doing, you stupid motherfucker? Working this menial job that is so beneath you it is like a toilet."

Oh my fucking god, this is the wrong place for me to be at the end of my life. Sucking every bit of pride out of me, every bit of self-respect, killing any chance I have of rescuing me from a meaningless grave.

Razor blades nicking my skin, hemlock in my coffee, yes sir no sir can I have another sir!!!!!!!!!!!!

NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This   cannot   be   my   reality   at   this   stage   in   my   life!

What the fuck did I do to deserve this?

Psychological pain is 100 times more intense than an icepick in the eye.