Friday, June 20, 2014

disaster

I told him again yesterday that I was lonely. 

Earlier today I told him that I felt like walking off into the woods. 

A bit later he told me he was sorry I was depressed, that he was depressed too. He said this wasn't the life he'd pictured 5-6 years ago, which is when he started his last job.

A bit later, as he concentrated on his phone screen, I asked why the heavy sigh.

He said he feels like his life is a disaster.

"Welcome to the club," I muttered.

I asked what had made him sigh. 

He said he's felt like a failure for two months, since his job was taken out from under his feet. 

He never wanted that job to start with. Hated it, thought it was beneath him and made that clear to everyone.

He said it didn’t help that this new job had lied to him.

He never wanted that job to start with. Hated it, thought it was beneath him and made that clear to everyone.

He said that the dog was whining.

I didn’t know what else to say so I told him I was sorry and asked what we were going to do about it.

"I don't know," he answered. "I don't know who's whining."

I said, "no, the other thing."

He came back with, "I don’t know, try to find a way to not be miserable I guess."

He got up and let the dogs out, standing on the porch for a few minutes, fussing at them playing. He came inside, collapsed back into his recliner.

From the bedroom we heard the cat meow. He sighed heavily and we fell into silence, the only noise - the background drone of some talking head, an angry bird outside, and the creak of his recliner as he reached for his soda. 

What a disaster. I can almost hear that damn cuckoo clock. 

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