March 19, 2013

Every February 28th at 11:34pm a man in a blue suit stands up from behind his desk, adjusts his tie, and turns off the switch at the end of the hall. It's his only job, his life's purpose, and he takes it quite seriously. He goes back to his desk, waits 26 days, and then turns it back on.

Every February 28th at 11:34pm I go crazy and stop talking to other humans and considering running off into the woods. Goodbye forever two-legged mammals I once knew, I will stay here and become one with the trees and maybe stop remembering you probably.

I'm in strict denial that I have seasonal affective whatever because hey! I like winter just fine. December? Fine! January? Delightful! The blustery grey dearth of early February? Okay! February 27th? Yo baby, what's up? March 1st -- BAM! WOE, WOE AND PAIN. SADNESS AND DEATHHHHHHH. LIE ON THE COUCH. EAT ALL THE CHIPS. I'VE LOST MY WILL TO LIVE REAL LIFE. IT'S ALL SO FUTILE. I CAN'T MOVE MY ARMS AND LEGGIES. WILL THE DARKNESS NEVERR END >.

...You know, that general sort of thing. It's super duper.

I haven't even been able to stir up the effort to write about how I don't have the effort to write about anything which, wow, that's a pretty low bar to not shuffle over on your way back to the couch. Weak effort, really. Go flog yourself. (I have been! I seem to have plenty of energy for self flagellation which seems appropriately angsty.) Meanwhile the best introspection I've come up with are four sentences about standing next to some ducks and an essay on walking to and from the bathroom a lot of times. It's a thriller, let me tell you.

The greatest part about this little seasonal phenomenon, besides shouting, "I CAN'T RELATE TO YOU, HU-MAN" at strangers in the grocery store checkout line, is that one day a month or a week or two days from now I'll wake up and look outside at the plants and stuff and snap back to normal like nothing ever happened.

Since I seem to disappear on mental spring break without fail at the exact same time every year, I've been trying to cut myself some slack about voting in absentia, which is a great idea but also not really happening. Even knowing that things will be back to normal soon I've given myself five or six black eyes and torn off my left arm which I only use to play video games anyway. I'm not sure if that means I should just duck and cover until it's over and power through it, but something will happen one way or the other or I'll fall asleep.

This morning while I was driving to work I saw the sun for 30 whole seconds, and even though it was blinding me and I was about to careen off the road and die in a fiery explosion I couldn't look away because SUN? IS THAT YOU? THIS MAY BE THE ONLY TIME I EVER SEE YOU AGAIN AND I MISS YOU SO MUCH PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME ARGGGHHHHH MY EYES ARE BURNING.

Writing about writing is the barfiest. My mouth feels hot and it won't stop snowing. GAH.
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