10/18/97: I'm listening to a cassette tape of Alan Parson's Project's "Tales of Mystery and Imagination of Edgar Allan Poe." Each side opens with a narration by the late Orson Welles. This has been one of my favorite aire d^ambiance albums since the late 70's. My brother had the vinyl (read: "had" because I swiped it from him when I went to college, shhhhhhh.) If you're into Poe and goth and darkness and rock-n-roll and techno, try it. You'll love it. APP takes Poe's works and puts them to music, in a terrific marriage of suspense, lyrics and instrumentation. A splendid tribute to the king of despair.

I feel nothing right now. I have no animosity or anger or resentment or disappointment. Likewise I have no happiness, no satisfaction, no laughter, no love, no smiles. Nor do I have fear. No dreams. It is interesting to note all this nothingness in such quanity as to wipe out my essence. I feel dead. Heartless. Calm. Have I sunken to the depths of true insanity? About two hours ago, I was in such a state of despair that I was truly afraid. I didn't want to be here anymore, and I couldn't stop the flooding of all the negative thoughts into my head. I was screaming inside to get a grip on everything and make it stop, but I couldn't. I laid down because I felt heavy and spent physically. I didn't feel bad, other than what the swirling depression was causing me to feel. But like you can't stop a room from spinning when you have vertigo, I couldn't stop the "noise" of all the clutter turning over in my head. I don't know how I sunk so low in an instant.. I have been depressed for a few days. I'm attributing that depression to the lack of direction in my life, but something pushed me over the edge a while ago and I have no idea what it was. I am tired of living and digging constantly inside myself to make it. I am tired of being the independent soul I was born to be. I am not suicidal in such a sense that I want to kill myself. That holds no glamour whatsoever, and holds no cure for what's wrong with me. Not that I seek answers, I know a good bit of why this is going on inside of me. I just noticed I'm starting every sentence with "I", which is a major faux pas in some realms. Nobody reads this anyway (I didn't start this sentence with "I", be impressed) so it doesn't matter what I write here.

Where was I? The cure. I don't know what the cure is to this paralyzing depression. I say paralyzing because I sit and stare at the screen or the keyboard or the windshield in a daze, thinking of things with such intensity that I allow the thoughts to go full circle without taking action on cue. It's like I am hungry, I recognize I'm hungry, I think about what's available to eat, then I think about the effort required to fix something to eat, then I think if I'm hungry enough to go to that effort, then I realize that if I eat I'll either get sleepy orbe disappointed with what I've fixed or something, then I think I'm not that hungry, so I continue to just sit and stare. Eventually I forget the hunger. Then something else gets into my head and a similar thought process ensues and nothing happens. I guess this is the evidence we need to say "yes chris, you are suffering from depression." I know I'm depressed. That's not the point. I don't know what to do about it. It's not a "chemical imbalance" or mental disorder, I'm quite sure. I feel like I've given every ounce of my soul away and didn't save any for me. And that I did this thinking there was an endless supply, taking for granted I will always be full of energy and ambition and dedication and loyalty and love. The tap ran dry and I wandered around full-steam ahead on nothing for about a year, until I realized it had run dry. Once I realized that I was operating in a deficit and continuing to bleed, my world fell apart. I hit "rock-bottom" in every facet of my life, and at those depths instinct kicks in and drives you to the edge of survival. From there it's up to you to climb over that edge and put your life back onto flat terrain. That is an almost-impossible task when you have nothing inside you to push yourself forward (I say "almost" because if it were impossible, I don't think I'd be here right now). I've lost myself, or given it away, or otherwise misplaced it, and I can't find it now. How long do I have to go on as nothing? I'm just waiting. Waiting for my private armageddon. And I'm hungry.


..the end..