life in the ruins

the end of each day is the same. i turn off the tv in the living room. i head upstairs to my bedroom. i draw a hot bath, and when it's ready, i take a long soak. during what should ideally be a moment of respite, instead, i invariably think about all the wrong decisions i've made that have led to this ruin of a life.

i'll think about deciding in college what my life's work would be; in choosing my major, at my mother's insistence, i selected one in the sciences when i should have been an english major - a subject not only in which i excelled but also enjoyed immensely. oh, what was my mother's rationale?simply that i would have an easier time finding a well-paying job. somewhat ironic given my having a couple of stints of unemployment -- the latest for almost a year.

i think about all of the relationships of all types with men that i've had. how eventually they broke apart with the common thread being that the vast majority of these men left suddenly and without a backwards glance.

i think of all the people in whom i wrongly placed my trust (many in the previously written paragraph).

i think of being in environments that were harmful to my acceptance of my full identity as a gay man until much later in life and all the years lost to the potential of finding a sustained, healthy and loving relationship that resulted.

i think about the great struggles i've had with depression and either the wrong choices that i've made or the lack of agency that came about from these episodes. there is likely no greater pain for a cerebral person than to have his brain, the very source of his thoughts and insights, betray him so utterly and completely.

by now the water has cooled and it's time to leave the bath and get dressed for bed. i read a bit and then take a pill to help me sleep through the night. thanks to this pharmaceutical assistance, sleep comes quickly, but not before i wonder, "how long can one really continue to live a life in the ruins?"