The meds have me feeling serene, or close to it. How long that lasts is nobody’s guess but anybody’s target. I was reading the FB musings of someone I used to know and hang out with. He’s moved away but comes back to NYC once in a while. I usually wince a little at his public musings, which make his life look like a dream come true, living the large life, happy as one man can be. Any time I see him in person the reality is revealed. He’s deep in debt, there’s trouble with the wife, he only moves around so much because he can’t hold a job anywhere, and while we are not buddies and never really were he trusts me enough to admit that online life is a big fat charade. I tend to think most online lives are like that, up to a point. I mean, I don’t want anyone thinking my life is perfect, or glamorous. Your life is probably better than mine depending on your criteria for success and stability. I don’t want anybody thinking I’m anything I’m not. I’m a depressive who drinks but I don’t consider myself an alcoholic. It’s just a habit. I’ve quit many times and it’s no big deal, but it also changes nothing. I feel no different dry versus liquored. In a past abusive relationship I nearly drank myself to death. I believe I was trying to kill myself to get out of that situation. But that’s long past, and even the thought of how much I used to consume in those days makes me cringe.
Certain art on the subway can make me feel like I’m in a Kindergarten classroom, as seen this AM on the R:
