I’m a shitty friend. I ignore texts for several days. I make sure I’m always marked as “offline” even when I spend more than three quarters of my day hunched over on my phone. I love every one of my friends, but trying to make any coherent phrase is too much for my brain. My mind feels like mush. There’s nothing but mashed lumpy thoughts sitting in my skull. Churned together, but with little effort. Material goes in. Snippets of information float in me like dead fish. There’s no point in fishing for something that’s already rotten. In my head, sentences begin, but halfway through, they just slur off, like a little voice being pushed off a railway. I know it’s dumb, but if simply raising my arms feels like lifting dead weight, how do you expect me to formulate a valuable thought to a political meme you just sent my way? I know Venezuela is collapsing. I know the bees are dying. I know a school shooting just happened. And I know conversations are the front lines of progress. But I don’t think anything is worth doing. And I don’t think anything is worth saying. Because at the end of the day, we’ll stick to our own ways, and the world won’t change until it’s to late. And I’m sorry I’m a shitty friend. Right now, I’m just a thick brick, laying in the thicker shit of my own, self made, depression.

May 9th, 2019



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