It's been almost three months since I've written a poem.
In the depths of winter, all I really want to do is hibernate. And for some stupid reason, I haven't gotten my prescription filled. After six years of successful medication compliance, I guess I've gotten a little cocky. I'm too cheap/busy to find a doctor to write me another prescription while I wait for the package to arrive from the mail-order pharmacy.
All of which means I've noticed a subtle shift in my mood. I'm more irritable with the sardine-like conditions on the subway. I'm concentrating more on things that suck in my life than on things that are good.
I'm isolating from my peers.
I haven't been to a meeting on more than a week.
These are all classic signs of depression and codependency: failure to perform basic tasks relating to self-care.
And yet I look perfectly healthy.
Annalisa's aunt died of cancer last weekjust a few years after her other aunt did.
Boston in January sucks.
I work too much.
Like that. These are the things that are going through my head today.