Don't Take It So Humorously

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Don't ask me why.

What would be the point. I haven't done much, right? Not lately, other than vegetate. I can't really do anything, and if I want to do anything, it usually means nothing. I was supposed to go to my appointment to see Dr. A on Friday, didn't go. I wanted to go to Oz's recording studio to watch his band record their next CD on Saturday, didn't go. I wanted to do something constructive with my time other than sleep and eat, didn't do it. I'm sliding down into a hole in the ground. I don't know what it is other than I'm not on an antidepressant. I'm told that could be it. I have to be on one. Dr. G wants to put me on one, but next week. She's still juggling my other medications and wants to take it slow introducing new shit into my bloodstream.



I didn't do well on the Zoloft. The next one hopefully will do the trick. Pull me out of the depression but not make me hyper or flat. Quite possibly land me somewhere in the middle of the two states. I'm thinking on what to do with myself until then. Watch television, and rot, the way that I am doing now? Rot away and die? I'm watching Law and Order and they talk about people who are put in solitary confinement. That humans were not made to be alone. We cannot function without other human beings.



Solitary confinement was used as torture for centuries because it was so effective. It has the tendency to make people insane. Being alone is not the domain of the normal human being. It is not the way people are hard wired to work. So, my question is, why does it work so well for me? I like being alone. I like not being bothered. But then, when I am not bothered, when I am forgotten, it bothers me. I feel as if I have been abandoned. I feel as if I have been discarded from the real world and left alone to die. To die alone.



I could say that dying alone is a great fear of mine, but then again, death is not really all that fearsome. Death, as long as it's not violent or prolonged is fine by me. I think of my demise. How will it come? Will it be self induced? Will it just happen? That's one thing that's pretty interesting. Dying and dying alone, suddenly. Expiring and leaving the way that I came into the world. Immediately and without fanfare. Just a quiet escape from reality without anyone being the wiser. No big thang.



I think dying alone is the biggest crime. What kind of bastard must I be to be alone all of the time. I think of that at times. I think that maybe I'm not a good friend, not a good confidante, not a good companion, not a good man. I think that sometimes I am an old curmudgeon, living alone in a single room with mountains of newspapers piled all around and bent over, gray, bearded and bitter. Sometimes I feel that I have actually elected to say goodbye to the race of humankind...shit, animal-kind, shit, every kind. I don't even allow insects in my room.



That's what I really fear. Not being a good man. I fear that. I fear not being good. Not being respect- able, not being honorable or impeccable. I fear not being there for those who are there for me. I fear not showing compassion to those in need. I fear not being caring to those in pain. I fear...that's right, goddamnit! I fear the losing of my humanity.



I can't use my mental predicament as an excuse for my actions. I'm not a cripple. But the pain of humankind, the pain that the entire world of people, known and unknown causes me is unbearable. I don't ask  you to understand it, just to realize that people cause me to suffer. I feel a burning pain with all but a few. I cry out for solace, so that I can be the man that I once was but this too is probably too late.



Now I just cry out for peace. Peace in my world. Even if it means being alone.

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