Middle of the road

Sometimes, i feel as if i am teetering on the edge of something incomprehensible. We need purpose. The human condition is at times intangible and littered with dead ends.

I only recognise these distractions on certain days. Dead days. Days when i don't want to be conscious, days when i can make myself sleep from midnight through to eight through to midday through to three. I can sleep almost non stop on these days, only waking to drink a completely useless coffee, eat some bread and cheese, watch a meaningless television program.
On those days i don't stir. Unquenched, i find it is easy to fall back into the depths.

For the life of me, i cannot understand why this happens. A few months ago these Dead days were every day. Even taking a holiday in France didn't awaken me. I would hide from everything, and as i woke up in the morning i would sense pangs of guilt, especially if i'd slept besides a friend. Scared that while they slept i'd dragged them away from the happy shallows and deeper into the same place i'd found myself trapped in.

This morning, Jeffrey asked me to go outside and do something. He even said please. He said i should take a walk somewhere, if only for a while. I recall my mother requesting the same, and my councillor. I wonder why, at 22, i can't tell myself to do this. why it is so agonising to even think about opening my eyes.

It seem obvious now that i am finally somewhere, albeit a pretentious coffee shop at least it is somewhere. Against a landscape of classical music and buzzing chatter and the bored young baristas and their whiny american accents and the wide eyed toddlers hugging their mother's slender legs. Glaring at their surroundings. When my eyes meet a toddler's eyes i feel sad that they have so much to go through and even when they've been through it all they wont have any answers.