Homesick
I’ve only managed to sneak back to D.C. once since I moved down here. And it’s time to change that.
My money goes straight into housing and bills. What’s left over is for wine and dinners out. That’s it. No new technology or trips or anything that used to make me, well, me.
Getting sick these past few days has been an adventure in anxiety and depression. I am not a good sick person. I am a steaming ball of misery. And I question everything … the meaning of life, my place in the universe, whether I’m wasting my time, whether I’m good enough, am I going to die alone, will I end up on the streets, am I going to get dumped again for another unattractive ‘ho, etc.
Fucking miserable. And not the sort of thoughts I tend to entertain on a regular basis … if at all.
I can’t allow myself to stop and rest, you know? I have to be working around the clock to distract all those voices in my head. To forget what’s going on at home. To ignore what’s not going on in my personal life. To somehow justify not doing everything I want to do.
And I’m falling to absolute pieces.
I’m wondering whether a quick weekend trip to Virginia to see a friend or two might help. To be with someone who loves me, to be on a plane, to get the fuck away from this crazy place … I really have no reason NOT to.
Really, the only anxiety I have about it is whether I’d show up for the return flight!