Flirting With Despair

Despair is a heartbreaking word.  It conjures visions of a blank screen, of hopelessness.  It sucks you in a place that doesn’t make sense.  It offers nothing that’s worth doing.  It takes everything and wouldn’t take no for an answer.  I can walk around in circles or in squares in this place; I can even sidle sideways—but what’s the point?  I am dealing with it as Roark would– feel the pain reach my stomach up to a certain level.  It stays there like a malignant tumor that has suddenly become the center of my universe.  Right now, nothing seems worthwhile—not even breathing, not even when I’m expunging air that seems to prick my lungs with a thousand pointed needles.  It is all consuming.  And no amount of digits stashed in the bank, nor any degree of brilliance from my shiny little toys could drown this screaming despair.  It’s got me in a vise grip. Yet strangely, I want it to strangle me some more. 

If life is indeed a wheel with its series of ups and downs, I say fuck the wheel.  I want mommy.  

Christmas did come early but alas, it also ended a bit too abruptly.