I’ve missed you and I’m sorry. I’ve been really tired lately and it’s the most tired I think I’ve ever been. I wasn’t this tired through the onset of my diabetes at 13, not even through the yearly seizures that followed. And more recently, I can honestly say, I don’t even think I was this tired through that bullshit 6 month period of “cancer-but-not-really-cancer.”
This tired is worse. But then, they say depression will do that to you.
I’m actually just writing this as an apology. It probably doesn’t seem like it.
It’s just that, I’ve been neglecting my friends—all of them; no one made the cut—and I’ve been neglecting my writing. I’ve been showing up later and later to work and not attempting to smile when before I would put one on my face, just so I wouldn’t have to explain anything.
I’ve been using my exhaustion as an excuse not to dance and I’ve been telling myself it’s okay to feel this way, because IT IS. But that doesn’t mean I’m still not incredibly sorry. It’s not you, it’s me. No. Really! And as an fyi, I don’t really need to be lifted out of my mood, I just need time to deal with it and I need for people to understand that I’m dealing with it and not take it personally, because thinking about cleaning up a mess after I’ve dealt only makes me want to sleep forever.
And while we’re discussing it, might as well admit that I’m really sorry for how fucked up this sounds, but I can’t talk to you about you because I don’t have the energy to give you solutions that matter. I can’t edit your papers or read your manuscripts or draft that 200 word article for your kid’s youth football team because I don’t have the energy. I can barely make the phone calls I need to make in order to pay my car insurance. It’s a wonder my cat’s litterbox has been cleaned out and that I have clean underwear to put on for work. If you’re leaving me voicemails, I’m not listening to them and if you’re just calling to chat the way we normally do every month, I’m not answering. But it’s not you, it’s me.
I’ve been thinking about fairly little except how I’ll get away from the city I grew up in and when. I’ve been thinking about how I’ll never come back; it seems like a lot but would it make a difference if I called it “day dreaming” instead?
I’ve been working 12 out of the 24 hours we’re allotted in a day and sleeping for about 10 of the ones that are leftover, too.
• hi, i love you.
• i’ll be back soon.
• it’s me, not you.
• but it’s okay.
• “i’ll check in when I can.”