An Open Letter

“I wonder if the blind mice even want to see, I wonder if the deaf father ever heard his daughter (scream/sing?)” -Rick’s Piano

I thought about the phrase make the most of it, and for some reason I got fixated on the thought of maybe it was too much. Last night I read about Melba being caught, and her self-punishment or hatred, whichever term you choose to use. She had lost everything and it all caught up to her, and she refused to move and was sealed off to the world. But also she was lucid, and in her mind she was there. She thought “I was almost proud of how long it had been since I'd moved.” and I felt like I was normal. And then I thought how weird it was to feel ok at the depiction of the terrorist villain. But also Holden earlier wrote about his childhood dog dying and staying by his side the whole night, but after a few hours feeling bored. He wrote that's where he learned humans had limits on emotion, and that resivour could run dry. Im pretty sure I misspelled reservoir so badly earlier autocorrect has no clue. I also realized the book is made up, and I guess it's all just the writers experiences repackaged in some form. But at least someone else has experienced what I sometimes do.

I've felt pretty low for the last week or so, I can't even tell you how long. I guess that's a good sign I'm depressed, since I don't remember joy. But I'm also not like sad, but I guess afraid of feeling because I know I'll just feel not good. Maybe not bad, but at the best nothing. And that's a scary thought. I know I'm only now getting to exercise again because of my injury, but man fuck. With whatever endorphins I was able to get just now I hope I can somewhat romanticize living. I don't feel suicidal, but I do feel at least that artistic appreciation about it, which scares me because it's a halfway house between ideation. I've had a few nights where I get a flash of a thought of letting go and it goes away as fast as it came, but it's still horrifying. But at the same time I don't feel like I can bring myself to care about anything. I realized I've left a few messages unresponded to which is almost unprecedented for me, since I respond when I get them. But weirdly I've had too many notifications when I wake up. Everything feels like a chore, and I'm almost afraid to check my phone. I doubt if I can maintain a large social network because what happens when I get depressed? I haven't really learned how to ever navigate it well because I don't even know if I can. Like am I supposed to tell everyone “hey sorry for not responding for two weeks, I wanted to recover!”? I feel myself pulling away pretty often, because everything takes energy and it cannot feel good, might as well avoid it.

I'm a little bit sad how I don't want to mention anything about suicide around A because of her trauma with it, but at the same time sometimes it's on my mind. I don't want to potentially trigger her and so I'd rather avoid it. I can handle it on my own, and ironically enough if I somehow can't then it doesn't matter, does it? That was kinda a joke, I don't see it happening. I'm worried I romanticize thugging things out on my own. But also I'm afraid to have a bad experience interacting with anyone else about it. I feel like my emotional battery has been gone for a bit. Most days I just go home and play league with A if he's on. And if not, I watch YouTube. Rinse and repeat. I know nothing changes if nothing changes, and so I guess I'm hoping for exercise to change it. But it's easy to go numb, almost inevitable – and then I forget I can feel better.