Disappointment is the most bitter pill to swallow. It winds you around its little finger and reminds you of just how small you really are. It's even harder to deal with when you somehow almost convince yourself that you can achieve something, there's something in your sights that could be yours, it's so close, it's so near'¦

But no.

A setback is a setback is a setback.

And this is not just the little disappointment that comes with finding you're out of milk or that your favorite bagels are no longer stocked. This is earth-rocking level. This is the hard stuff.

Walking through London Liverpool Street station on Friday, I see in the Lush there they've a new type of bath bomb called The Happy Pill, designed to deconstruct those moments when your mental health feels fragile, when you feel blue, when defeat feels imminent. Standing there in a throng of commuters I sigh heavily and purchase one. A fucking bath bomb is not going to change the core of sadness I feel, but a bath bomb combined with alcohol combined with mac and cheese combined with the gentle and kind words from my boy, well, those might alleviate.

They were a start.

The sun is out and the trees are a volatile color of green, the kind that you can taste on the tip of your tongue and it tastes like earth and hope. The sky has a mantle of those high flung clouds that have no consequence, other than to remind you of the fact that the sky, she can be very, very blue. Bees and humming, the proverbial birds are chirping, flowers are erupting victoriously and all I can think is: If I hold still long enough, will my thoughts be able to outrun me? Can they just pass me by and leave me alone? If I am the Allegory of the Cave, is the shadow on the other side simply my other half, the half that thinks and feels?

I like being numb. It tends to suit me. I hope it lasts long enough to just be a small tide of sadness and disappointment, my characteristic self-defenses actually doing their fucking job for once and just protecting me. The darkness has not been calling, but then again the light was having a hard time getting in. Thanks to my Angus, the world has been kept at bay and the house became a welcome spot in which every part of me retires.

I am getting better.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 08:05 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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