“There are days when you can feel the whole world coming down on you. It’s a heavy weight, this world. And so am I. But it’s heavier than I am. Neither sleep nor company nor Michael Scott can make you feel better on days like these. The brain slows down and (not that mine’s ever been a kinetic, breezy, ball of fire – if anything, it has been a ball) the body finds itself dragging its feet.
I think it’s human. To lose motivation. To not feel like yourself. To not see the bright side even when the sun is shining down on you. Heck, even that feels like deadweight. And please for every leaf on every tree taking in that light’s sake (good for them – I don’t know why I said that – but I told you the brain’s slowed down – so, deal with my drivel), do not tell me it will get better; that I should keep going anyway; that it could be worse. It could bloody well have been better as well.
Tell me to eat. Tell me to eat my way through this day. Tell me it’s okay to do that. Because nothing, nothing and nothing is going to make me feel better than a jumbo, warm, chunky, munky, sludgy, gooey, chocolate chip brownie. And fries. And bread. And cheese. And mayonnaise. And everything fattening and sacrilegious and forbidden in your “diet covenant”. Give me the fried-trashy-junk-sugary-garbage and watch me eat it. Watch me eat it. And watch me feel better. Watch the butter and the oil and the grease melt into my gums, watch the heated-to-perfection chocolate sauce trickle down my chin, watch my lustful tongue lick it like it was extracted from the last cocoa bean in the world, watch a part soft, part crispy, part crunchy garlic-ky bread beset with herbs neutralize the sweet taste just so I can go back and eat another diabetic-ally delicious bite. And then another one.
Until the day gets better. Just until the day gets better. Please.”
Emailed the shrink/nutritionist my reflections. The rays seemed to have set her ablaze.
“Drive here right now George! Before you even try to make the day better! You’ve done too well to go back to being a G(e)orger!”
Days like these. I hope I’m driving to their end.