My life has circled me back around to September. Back to my pre-Boston daily drudgery of depression. Really, what was the hospital other than an anti-Boston?: a place i have known as a part of my daily map for years, a place where my mother holds sway over everything i encountered, a place where i was left utterly disconnected from all that i am used to, and a place where i was utterly alone. Just as i was finally beginning to feel purpose and motivation, now i’m just as suddenly stuck. I feel like i don’t know anyone, or maybe that no one knows me. Or, maybe that no one knows it. One by one everything is ceasing to matter to me: theatre, class, friends, guitar. They are the slivers that slip through, and i can’t infer anything with what i’m left with. Not anything at all.

At twenty i should have a motivation, or a love, or a desire. Right now all i want is to have that sleepy black back from Friday, like an eclipse on anything else that might catch my attention. I am twenty, and i know how to get A’s; that’s all anyone ever bothered to teach me. In fact, i don’t even know how to care about them. I studied endlessly for today’s two final quizzes and felt absolutely nothing when i passed them each without much hesitation. I got my paper back with a B+ and it felt like a failure, but it wasn’t because of the B+.

Two decades and i don’t think one damn thing matters to me. My songs echo hollowly inside my head just like me voice did in the theatre tonight; i can’t seem to pick up my guitar.

I am going to sleep; tomorrow there are more motions to go through.