Author Information
January Blues
I am in a slow, breathtakingly slow, depression; I wander listlessly around my house elegantly avoiding deadlines, deadlines for assignments, for planning or even for writing.
Writing this to avoid writing something else, near tears but only a bit, not a dramatic soulful crashing artistic black depression.
No a small, pathetic low, a dip in my mood, a small dip that paralyses me into a state of chronic inaction, of paralysis of inability to see any shreds of silver lining my darkish clouds.
I am guilty, am I simply avoiding things that are hard, difficult?
I am torn, pulled, do I want to do this, that, the other. I Don’t Know! I can’t decide, I can’t make a decision, I hate not making a decision but I hate making one too.
What will happen? Will this lift, will the cloud clear to reveal the happy man I am? Am I still a happy man behind the cloud or is he dead forever? I feel tears near the surface but they don’t arrive, they bubble, they sit, they fester but they haven’t arrived – yet.
I long to tell someone but dread exposing my weakness. I have a happy smiling confident face; I wear it a lot, I keep my face, the reflection of my heart for those 3am sweats when I think maybe it will never be good again, maybe it will get worse and I am weak and powerless.
But hey its just the January blues isn’t it roll on February.
