in bed

the immediacy of my isolation is pressing down. My conflict lies in not having the will to move but yearning for past times with overwhelming schedules and friends visiting every weekend. My house was filled with laughter then.

When not at work, I find it hard coming up with a reason to stay awake. I'm ashamed of my house because of the ceiling damage and the messiness that I have no desire to rectify. I think it's all cause to Scott. He just needs to come out of his room and I cringe.

I've felt hatred, and I've desired revenge, but I've only now discovered the depths of loathing. In fact, I don't think I understood the word completely prior to this.

I'm disgusted with myself. I can't believe I've gotten this big and I'm having difficulty dealing with my age. Everyday I see some change, some rebellious act performed by my body. On top of that, I'm really craving someone to touch.

It's morning as I write, dressed and ready for work but I hesitate. After a weekend of nothing to do and wishing I did, here it is that I have something imminent, and I just want to crawl into bed and die.