06.05.03 - 11:29

it's june. i don't know why, but at the beginning of each month i feel a need to announce it to the rest of the world. it's june.

how are you doing, the shrink asks me. and i look at him with blank eyes, not comprehending what he's really asking. i mean, are you able to function? function. i half-smile and say not really, i don't know, maybe, i'm not sure. i'm still confused about the meaning of the word function and i'm turning it over in my mind, feeling its sharp edges. he's still waiting for me to finish and my hands are wandering aimlessly over the cool leather of the chair and i say again, quietly, not really and trail off. i turn my head and look out the window at the city spread out before us. it's a clear day and i pick out landmarks, coit tower, the transamerica building, the bay bridge. he asks if i can get out of bed and i tell him yes, but then i usually just move to a chair and remain there for the rest of the day until it's time to go to bed again. every once in a while i do stay in bed all day, getting up for meals and sneaking back under the covers when i'm done eating. do you leave your apartment, he asks. and i'm thinking, well, i'm here, aren't i? but i know that's not what he means so i think about it and say, well, sometimes. if someone's picking me up to do something (movie, baseball game, dinner) i can walk downstairs and get in a car. i can get to my shrink and my therapist. i can get to the gym once or twice a week, though it's a lot closer to once a week right now. better than nothing i suppose. ok, so you're still able to participate in some social activity, he notes. i guess you could say that. i guess. things don't feel real anymore. these are thoughts that go unspoken.

i've been wasting the most beautiful days of the year, all cloudless blue skies and sunshine, sitting in this chair just waiting for time to pass.

previous - next