7am

I was dreaming I was a hero
Not the ones that can fly or have some other superhuman powers 
No
Just a regular Joe who stood for what was right
Taking down bullies with a karate chop to their heads
Damn that felt good
Why the fuck is my phone ringing?
Who the fuck calls before seven?
Oh, it’s my brother wandering if we could still make our date today. 
Sorry bro, not today. My plans do not include thinking about tomorrow.
Maybe that was the trigger. The reason why my brain is acting up again. 
For the thousandth time I try to pinpoint the event that precedes a ton of despair weighing down on me. I try to understand what I did wrong to be punished with wave after wave of rising tides of doom, washing over my limbless body
My head barely out the water but still drowning in the putrid air of failure above me. 
Maybe it is time I realized that my mind has a mind of its own. That my mind needs no reason to fuck me up or be fucked up. I just have to live with it
like a baby dependent on abusive parents in a broken society. I see the happy kids across the streets with their perfect lawns and perfect parents who vaccinate them and have home baked cookies at the ready for when they are sad. 
I see how those kids look at me with pity and then avert their eyes lest they catch my condition as if depression is visually transmitted disease. I see how those kids pretend to understand when in fact until you have lived it, until you have wrestled it until your heart bled and every fiber of your being aches from exhaustion, you have no idea what it means. 
So I do what I do best when I feel the weight
I pretend it is not there. I pretend my parents are as normal as the kid’s across the street. I mirror the emotions of that kid and pretend that I feel as good as he does.



Who the fuck calls before seven?

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