Prologue

What to do when emptiness grips you in the throws of everyday life?

What road does one take when the demons creep out of the closet and ride high in the light of their mischief?

Sometimes I don't understand. I have every reason to be happy and yet I tumble along aimlessly feeling worthless and inadequate. You hear stories about the guy who can go to a party and never talk to a living person. About people who creep so far into themselves that they do not want to even go into public. What about the guy who carries those fears and stands head first into everyday.

What about that guy? What about me? What about sorrow for no reason and rainy days when the sun is shining?

I stumble along sometimes, fighting myself, fighting the demon that is telling me to see the worst. I realize its happening and try to understand why I would feel this way. I swear it makes no sense, none at all. Feeling alone for no reason, it's manic, and it is no fun.

Take today, beautiful fall day, leaves are still hanging in the NE trees, although many shades of colors. Driving to work is like living a well-done oil painting, and yet, I sit there and think about how I might have made a mistake with a friend. I get these feelings that something I said, or something I reacted to, was wrong.

Out of the blue, this manic sadness will creep across the flesh, deep chills travel up and down my limbs and I tell myself to stop it. I think of all of the good in my life, I think of all the good in my friendships. Sometimes it works, sometimes I feel better and the demon goes back to sleep wherever he is hiding. Sometimes it doesn't, and I spend the day trying to figure out why I feel so bad.

So, I am driving in my car and I am feeling that I have done something wrong to this friend. What is bothering me is not important because it's stupid, and should never cause these feelings. I am left wondering about this "thing" so much that I have to email my friend and apologize to them about the "wrong" that I did.

Inevitably, an email will come back and say, "What the hell are you talking about? There is no problem, don't worry about it."

Although, I do, I worry about it. I listen to soothing music, I try to lose myself into my work, and I pretend that I don't feel sad deep down inside. I think if the swings were worse, I would worry, but I am no danger to others or myself. I am just sad. Just sad.

I have my good days, my in-between days, and my great days as well. I'm not always sad, it's just the emotion I remember the most. I find that I seem to spend my idle time trying to figure out what causes me to get sad. It is a form of meditation I guess you could call it; I search myself and look for the answers to my feelings.

The thing that scares me about the medications is that I feel numb. I feel numb to the world; I lose a part of me when my emotions are dulled to the point of apathy. They don't work for me. I made the decision to try to fix myself; I have no idea if my experiment will work. Its one of those only time will tell situations.

So why am I talking to you today? What reason would I have to invite you into my mania on such a fine fall evening, you might ask yourself. Well, I have a story to tell, one that I think you might like. It's my story.

Chapter 1 »