Solving the Equation of My Depression, Part Two

I forgot how long cigarettes last.

 

Wednesday was a quiet spring night in my suburban neighborhood. 

 

*car door slams*

 

Shit.

 

I still have half of this cigarette left. 

 

I don’t even enjoy smoking. 

 

*car starts*

 

I just enjoy the quiet time it gives my mind…and the action it gives my hands. 

 

I am sitting below my deck, on the ledge of my window, and my feet in the river rock…smoking this cigarette…thinking of my equation.

 

*car backs out of driveway*

 

I don’t want my parents to see me.

 

*car drives away from house across the street*

 

I don’t want my dogs to see me.

 

I’m trying not to overthink this equation but it’s there in my mind, so I might as well think about it. 

 

Rule 3. Limited Facebook & Instagram for a week

 

Monday = 3 Facebook checks, 1 Instagram check

Tuesday = 2 Facebook checks, 0 Instagram check

Wednesday = 5 Facebook checks, 1 Instagram check

 

I have poor habits.

 

I can smell the cigarette on my hand as I write. 

 

I am currently airing out my room.

 

My dogs can’t find out.

 

They will be so disappointed.

 

This equation.

 

What’s the answer?

What’s the point?

What’s the answer?

What’s the point?

What’s the answer?

What’s the point?

 

I don’t know the answer but I do know the point. 

 

I don’t want my life to be ruled by this plague of the mundane.

 

I don’t want to be labeled as “Ellen ‘Depression’ Kuntz”.

 

I’m growing really tired of the “YOU SUCK” song in my head.

 

I’m growing really tired of letting my depression drive. The route is always the same mundane bullshit. 

 

I’m growing really tired.

 

I’m growing really fucking tired. 

 

d x gt + c = ME

 

depression x growing tired + courage = me getting myself back