(Date unknown. Based on my last two posts, I’m guessing spring of 2008)
(Looks just like me! Image source)
Recently, a friend asked how I was feeling. “Pretty good!” I answered, flashing my legendary megawatt smile.
“Pretty good” was a lie. Between school, work, social strife, and general depression, I find myself deflating more and hoping less every day. A deadly heaviness has settled upon me, and I don’t feel like fighting back.
When this friend asked how I felt, I should have answered “I am equal parts scared child and snarling dog. I am going under for the third time. Never ask again. Do not offer help. Above all, do not attempt to come between me and the refrigerator; I will not be held accountable for my actions.”
Perhaps I should have referred her to these three film clips for an honest depiction of my current mental state:
I know exactly how to pull myself together*, and you have to believe that I truly am trying.
Until my healing is complete, I ask that you 1) Take a deep breath, 2) Say a prayer for me and 3) Beware the snarling dog.
There are those who cannot hope, and those of us who can do little else.
*Wait, I thought I knew how to pull myself together?! What fools these young’uns be!
I heart the Buster Keaton film sooooo bad! My daddy broke both legs in high school running through the hurdles.
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Rebekah Reply:
January 4th, 2013 at 9:09 PM
Isn’t Buster Keaton wonderful?
Geez, poor Grandpa! What a rotten day that must have been… sounds like a good story for Ye Olde Blogge!
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