Contemporaneous: Chapters’ 8 – 12.
8. I wake too early like I ‘ve done every day since I was on antidepressants for five years over twenty years ago, and they fucked with my sleep, and even now, even with them clean from my system, the side-effects they introduce remain. Grabbing my phone from the bedside drawer where my clock radio sits, I check it, tensing as I expect some Lana diatribe. Sometimes she does that, sending me an essay detailing why I’ve behaved so poorly, a guided tour into my inadequacies that immerses me in guilt that overwhelms any equilibrium I have, until all that remains is the doubt that maybe, just maybe, I…
Contemporaneous: Chapters’ 6 & 7
6. I never knew when I went from somebody who enjoyed working, who looked forward to editing and writing, to somebody who worked to pay the bills, and looked forward to the weekend for some respite, and writing became a habit, like smoking, that I just kept doing because it had become so ingrained in my life. Once I get home, I lay on my bed, and try to let my mind wander. When I was younger – like in my twenties – I used to be able to just let go, and let my mind wander without focus or direction, without needing to explore any thought that cropped up,…