Run Like Hell

(with apologies to Floyd, the lyrics of whose song have almost nothing to do with this post)

If I could have contrived a way for the marble floors to have opened up and swallowed me, I would have made it happen today.  It started well; I like Thursdays.  I had danish for breakfast.  I had Diet Mountain Dew back in my pantry and fridge.  I was cheerful.  I was listening to the Beatles' blue album.  I got to talk to a friend who, although she's in the same building, I rarely see.

Then it went right straight to hell.

Less and less am I able to put all the pieces back together.  More and more do I believe the bad things.  There's a line in some movie (I have the horrible feeling I'm about to quote Pretty Woman, but I'm not quite sure...) that says something about how people can tell you something good but the bad things are easier to believe.  That's where I am lately.  The bad things keep coming, and even though I'm trying not to gripe and whine (believe it or not, I really am), they keep knocking me to my knees.  It's getting harder and harder to get up.

Today, I didn't even want to.  Staying down seemed both right and good.  If down is where they want me so badly, maybe down is where I am supposed to be. After all, if I get up to fight again, I'm just going to get hit again.  What's the point of that?  It hurts and the effort involved in dragging my bleeding self back to my unsteady feet isn't going to be appreciated by anybody but myself....

When it was over, I sat very still for awhile, just thinking.  A friend came in and we talked.  I gathered my things, and we left, she to her home, I to mine.  I just ran away.  Despite the mountains of things I needed to accomplish, I couldn't do another thing, soul-sick as I am right now.  I'm going to watch a movie, see if there's anything edible in the kitchen, and look for joy in the small things that surround me.  I do know I do have to get myself back up again.  I just don't know how I'm going to do it.