I'm Blue

 By now, it would be clear to anyone that I am not a happy person. If there was ever any ambiguity in that perception or representation, I should make it clear that nothing that I do is done with a smile. I get through my day, press on to persevere throughout my work day, come home and make food that will cling to the overabundance of fat cells throughout my body, and I wait for sleep to consume me. I am riddled with anxiety at night and I often go through many hoops of "what if's" as I try to regulate my breathing and try to avoid hearing the wheezing that comes from inside. It doesn't matter which side I lay on, it comes. I have to have noise machines blaring in order to block it out. To mask the wall of silence that would keep me up even more than it does in the middle of the night. I do all of this, to continue to the next day of unrealistic expectations. 

I found myself in a meeting recently, and I realized that I had no real input to the conversation being passed around the room. I was a place filler for an otherwise dull and meaningless 30 minute overview. I was instantly aware of the fact that I was the only uninterested gay person in the room. Didn't care for the sports talk. Didn't care for the corporate propaganda. I was in a weird vortex, wringing at my fingers and hoping that no one would focus their attention on me. It eventually happened, my insides burst into flames and I had to engage with the rest of the group. Did I have any valid points, absolutely not. Did I care to ask any pertinent questions, hell no I did not. I clumsily and stupidly followed up on one thing that really didn't matter to the matter at hand and then casually nodded it away as others lost interest in the question. I bullshitted my way through it, I guess. I just didn't care.  

And I have to wonder if caring and sharing are all part of the problem that I cannot seem to overcome? On one hand, I think that if I show up for my day, but don't actually show up, then do I care if I don't care so much? And if I do care, does that mean that I am actually showing up and I really do care about what it is that I should be caring about. And sharing. And being present in the moment. I want to be invested in my own life, but I am too bored and easily distracted with other things that take my mind off of being alive. I am a self-sabotaging primate in what might be considered a late term midlife crisis. Where in the hell is my sports car and cheap younger hustler-as-a-companion life at then? Don't I have more to offer than words and sorrow?

Am I truly invested in being this miserable because my body, my brain, and my (dare I say it) my soul have all conspired against me to keep me in dark places? What can I get for my life, if I have no worth to anyone around me? It's just time fucking with me until it takes me out. What a fucking tradeoff!