(While we're on the subject: I do not want to watch Korra, even though all four remaining episodes of season two - which, on the whole, has been very relevant to my interests, re: depression vs. magic - will be available online tonight; I do not want to eat anything for the rest of the night even though I haven't eaten very much all day; I do not want to eat anything for the rest of the week even though I haven't eaten very much all week; I do not want to get high and feel better about everything; I do not want to get high and feel nothing because I'm too busy being distracted by everything; I do not want to get high and feel nothing because I'm too busy being distracted by my own thoughts about words and letters and sounds and why any of them mean anything; I do not want to take pictures of any of my Ponies; I do not want to take pictures of anything else; I do not want to think a thing; and, just for twenty-six minutes, one for every year of my life, I do not want to be me.)
For the last two weeks
Just in case that wasn't clear enough:
I have called him AND IT HAS BEEN FOR NAUGHT.
I have texted him AND IT HAS BEEN FOR NAUGHT.
I have called him and left multiple voicemails asking him to text me AND IT HAS BEEN FOR NAUGHT.
I have texted him and begged him to call me because I'm worried about him AND IT HAS BEEN FOR NAUGHT.
I have sent him messages on (ugh) Facebook AND IT HAS BEEN FOR NAUGHT.
I have tweeted him AND IT HAS BEEN FOR NAUGHT.
I have asked more than a few people who used to work with both of us if they've seen or heard from him lately. None of them have. Some of them volunteered to try to track him down for me, and they did, and apparently he's "doing alright," which they know because he has told them in text messages, so we can conclude that his phone still works and he hasn't forgotten how to use it, which might lead a person who wasn't cursed with Depression with a capital D to hope that he might send me a text that at the very least said "yo calm da FUCK down ha" -
But he hasn't.
Even though I have made it crystal.freaking.clear that I am legitimately worried & confused & upset by this whatever the hell is going on (because, let's face it, people do not "lose touch" in 2013 unless one of them chooses to do so).
So now I am legitimately worried & confused & upset, AND I am freaking the fuck out
because more than a dozen other people have also been making me feel ignored, and there's no way they can all be doing it on purpose so they can accuse me of worrying too much after it's over (. . . right?)
and if one more so-called friend takes the time to leave a comment or send a text to explain that they are "too busy" to call me to make sure I'm not contemplating anything stupid, even though it takes twenty seconds to leave a comment or send a text, so it might theoretically be possible to call me because they know I would fucking drop everything to call them if they were freaking the fuck out, I'm going to fucking punch somebody in the stomach until I get the sense that I've caused internal bleeding.
The sick thing is, two people HAVE dropped everything to give me a call, and I really really appreciate them both for that, but all I can think about is
WHY ISN'T TONY SPEAKING TO ME and WHY AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO SENSES A DISTURBANCE IN THE FORCE BECAUSE TONY ISN'T SPEAKING TO ME AND THAT IS NOT FUCKING NATURAL
Look, I've learned about depression enough to hear it when it starts whispering to me, but the thing is:
When my depression gets this bad, almost but not always, the only person I actually feel like talking to until it gets a little less bad
is Tony.
I realize this sounds kind of like a suicide note.
It isn't.
I was tempted to disable comments on this entry.
I didn't. Please don't make me regret that.
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