For the briefest of moments, I felt something completely irrational.
I wanted the car which was driving erratically in the lane next to me to hit my car. Nothing serious. Just a slow-speed bump. Just enough to be interesting. Something different.
That was Saturday afternoon. I was only about a mile from my house. I pulled into a parking lot to think about the crazy thought that had just gone through my mind. Even though I clearly didn’t actually want to be in an accident, something in my brain had briefly thought it would be interesting — and I was seriously disturbed by that.
At first, I thought I was just bored, not in the momentary sense, but in the long-term sense of everything about my life. And then I realized it was more than just boredom.
This was depression.
As much as I’ve been trying to shove it aside, my mind is screaming at me — begging me — to change what’s going on in my life, because I am throwing away every day that goes by like this.
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