Impending

I can feel it coming on again: The Slump. The Slump turns my sofa into my bed because something about my bed just doesn't feel right anymore. The Slump drops me a jean size because anything outside of water makes me feel nauseated. The Slump makes me spend hours a day writing self-indulgent crap about myself. Do you know I keep 3 journals? Sometimes I think if I just write enough, I'll be able to exorcise whatever is bothering me. In The Slump, however, it's hard to care about anything. The Slump gives me energy for only a half day at work.

The Slump woke me up last night. It was peeing on my kitchen counter. Again. For the third fucking time this summer. After they fixed it. Again. Last week.

I called him at 1 AM and he promptly offered his bed to me. I placed a container under the yellow stream of water pouring off my light fixtures and left the rest of the mess. I didn't care anymore; I'm not dealing with it anymore. I locked my apartment and I left.

Because that is what I do when I hit The Slump. I disappear.