November 23, 2023 Subverted Selfie Project Post
November 23, 2023: Once again, insomnia had me up well past 4am today. I slept most of the day, only heading out around one to a nearby cafe to get some split pea soup for my Mother and me. The smoky ham flavour hasn’t settled well in my stomach. A horrible hum has enveloped my head all day leaving me adrift in a blindingly bright grey fog that finds me wanting to slip into a sleep from which I never wake up. Once again, I feel broken, alone, and lost.
At four, I stood naked in my bathroom, looking into the mirror and feeling the gaze of a soulless man haunted by the darkness of the world that surrounds us all. I showered, first turning up the heat to something of a scalding level, wishing it would melt the scabs off my head, my right arm, and right leg. And let’s not forget this pimple that’s appeared below the belt line, as if born from the stumble I took on the roof on Sunday, scraping up my knee and sending a steady shock up my sciatic nerve. I hate getting pimples there, it makes me feel dirty.
It’s now almost six. I’ve pulled over on Viking Way near Cambie Road in Richmond. I’m heading downtown to see a photography show and hopefully see a friend. But the drive along the ninety one took forever, and the dizziness fed by the fumes of never ending traffic left me feeling weak. I had rolled down the window to try and let some fresh air in but fear I did myself worse. At one point tears streamed down my face as my lips quivered and I shouted “I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!” and “I hate myself so much.”
I thought I was going to pass out. I napped a bit, and then created a privacy stall with the two passenger side doors of my SUV to try and obscure the pee I so desperately had to take. I still feel slightly dizzy. I sip some water, feeling the cold grooves of the plastic Aquafina bottle in my hand as I stare through my now foggy windshield. I turn on the engine to let forced air start to clear the windows.
I think part of my issue today can be attributed to the junk I’ve consumed almost daily now for the last few weeks, during the movies I’ve seen almost everyday.
I feel so alone, unable to shake this depressive veil of self-hatred.
(327/365).
November 23, 2023 Subverted Selfie Project Post
November 23, 2023: Once again, insomnia had me up well past 4am today. I slept most of the day, only heading out around one to a nearby cafe to get some split pea soup for my Mother and me. The smoky ham flavour hasn’t settled well in my stomach. A horrible hum has enveloped my head all day leaving me adrift in a blindingly bright grey fog that finds me wanting to slip into a sleep from which I never wake up. Once again, I feel broken, alone, and lost.
At four, I stood naked in my bathroom, looking into the mirror and feeling the gaze of a soulless man haunted by the darkness of the world that surrounds us all. I showered, first turning up the heat to something of a scalding level, wishing it would melt the scabs off my head, my right arm, and right leg. And let’s not forget this pimple that’s appeared below the belt line, as if born from the stumble I took on the roof on Sunday, scraping up my knee and sending a steady shock up my sciatic nerve. I hate getting pimples there, it makes me feel dirty.
It’s now almost six. I’ve pulled over on Viking Way near Cambie Road in Richmond. I’m heading downtown to see a photography show and hopefully see a friend. But the drive along the ninety one took forever, and the dizziness fed by the fumes of never ending traffic left me feeling weak. I had rolled down the window to try and let some fresh air in but fear I did myself worse. At one point tears streamed down my face as my lips quivered and I shouted “I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!” and “I hate myself so much.”
I thought I was going to pass out. I napped a bit, and then created a privacy stall with the two passenger side doors of my SUV to try and obscure the pee I so desperately had to take. I still feel slightly dizzy. I sip some water, feeling the cold grooves of the plastic Aquafina bottle in my hand as I stare through my now foggy windshield. I turn on the engine to let forced air start to clear the windows.
I think part of my issue today can be attributed to the junk I’ve consumed almost daily now for the last few weeks, during the movies I’ve seen almost everyday.
I feel so alone, unable to shake this depressive veil of self-hatred.
(327/365).