Juniper Pearl

I’m trying…

What? I don’t know. To get back into everything.

In the words of illustrious philosopher William Fontaine de La Tour Dauterive, “I’m so depressed, I can’t even blink.”

I’m trying, but day after day of things I know don’t make me happy, it wears me out. So much stress, so much talking. So much of… nothing.

I want to live in a cottage in the woods, on the edge of a lake, in nature… but not too far from civilization. And just do what I want. No alarm clocks, no traffic, no bosses. Just me, and the birds, and the trees.

Maybe one day. Maybe I’m too old for “dreams”.

Maybe… but right now I’m trying.

I’m sorry, I forgot where I was.

I seem to be on a high at the moment… but I sit here waiting for it to come crashing down again. Perhaps, Monday? Perhaps, next year? It will come and I’ll just have to sit and take it.

This week was supposed to be restful; I suppose it had it moments. But today is the end and next week the anxiety will return… maybe I’ll cry.

But, for now, I’ll just sit here and enjoy the remaining peace. And wait for my new glasses.

I’m allowed to stay indoors and waste away the beautiful day. I’m no longer listening to a word you say. You’ve since turned into high-pitched screeching; falling onto silent ears. I’m deaf, I’m blind…you’re no longer here. We’re not one or two or three. I’m leaving you. I mean it this time.

I left three months ago.

a.k.a. You’re the Reason No One Likes You

It’s interesting the thoughts that run through your head as you’re doing the dishes. None of the usual “I’m not your housekeeper” thoughts or “God forbid your rinse a friggin’ dish” thoughts… no, these are the other ones. The ones that sit in the back of your mind, waiting. The ones that creep up on you throughout the course of the day. The ones that pop into your head when something reminds you of a certain someone. A certain someone who just doesn’t get it.

You’re the grand martyr of Self-ville. The master of the fucking universe. Queen of the narcissistic victims. Perpetually crapped on and no one likes you. Everyone sucks. Everyone is ugly. So-and-so is an asshole; this person is fat. No one ever comes to see me; but I don’t go to see them. Everyone comes here. Fun is had by all. Goodbyes all around.

—Insert various shit-talking here—

Insert thinly-veiled bad-mouthing on various sources. Passive aggression is the name of the game and you’re the returning champion.

We go about our lives, without you. Not one thought. At least not until you storm in, riding the guilt-horse. There’re are reasons you’re not allowed around.

You’re the reason no one likes you.