I dreamed of having a heart attack. I imagined not calling for help. I wondered if I could do it, let go of life so easily, simply close my eyes, cheek on the rough carpet, smiling goodbye to that dirty sock that never made the laundry basket–all before I hit thirty. Part of it was sad, I suppose, as any great tragedy should be, but part of it held great romance too. Not now, looking back, but then, certainly. Such is the depressed mind.
Though even now, I don’t know if I admit to being depressed. But lets just look at the facts, okay? Binge eating to oblivion every night, gaining almost 100 pounds in eighteen months, hiding from the world, falling asleep and IMAGINING ways to die. If that’s not depressed, well, it’s certainly fucked up to say the least.
I want to eat healthy. I want to run again. I want to start meditating. I want to spend less time watching television and more time talking to my friends. I want to take a motorcycle trip with my dad, sit outside in the crisp Colorado air, watch the clouds overhead start on fire as the sun slips over the Rocky Mountains, toasting a cold beer to life and memories made. I certainly don’t want spend nights at home feeling sorry for myself.
There’s a lot I want out of this shot at life. It’s an odd feeling to be so loved and simultaneously come to grips with the fact I hate myself. Well, that’s not true either. I don’t know if I hate myself. I dive into work and hide behind TV and food and family and life, and I don’t give myself a second to truly think what I really feel. It’s not hate, but there’s a ways to go towards love. Disappointed maybe. But isn’t that almost worst. Being a disappointment.
It’s a strange thing to dream, to imagine all of the world yearning and hoping and chasing after something. Like Gatsby at the end of the dock reaching towards that elusive green light: “Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgiastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter–tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther…. And one fine morning– So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”
I think about that often. I’ve thought about that often. I’ve never done anything about it though. I’ve never made a serious effort to change, to fix that one elusive green light I actually can change–myself. So it is decided. November 20th, the day of my nephews birthday, I’m going to change. I will decide who it is I want to be and, I can’t put it any simpler, I will try to become that person this year. I will try for a year. And I will share. And I will dream and imagine and wonder of new goals. And I will change my life, for the better, this year.