Depression

Loneliness, fear (that ever present thought of what is to come), depression, and an increasing angst are the feelings of the moment, sitting here on the Greyhound bus. There has been a change in me, perhaps caused by being so long in a negative situation (at least one for me), but the shift from positive to negative has taken place, much to my surprise. Sitting here alone I struggle to find my way back to a place of self I once enjoyed. The usually outgoing person is becoming more withdrawn. Bi-Polar combined with an ever increasing dislike for the way our society has become could be the reason; that combined with a smile that no longer shines. How do I afford correcting/repairing the once brilliant smile of years ago, before the drugs, the infections, and the time of self destruction? No longer having good front teeth now causes a constant worry about how others perceive me. It seems the very items of personal appearance that I long ago determined whether I would talk to a person or not, are now the very things I struggle with. I now share the feelings of those people in the past, and understand how they feel when meeting new people. That desire to be accepted for who I am, regardless of any imperfections.

My thoughts interrupted by the bus drivers announcements. Meal break in Baker City, Oregon. I'm not hungry. The small town is beautifully nestled in the valley, the mountains rise, soaring gracefully, surrounding me and the town. I sit alone on the quiet bus, the passengers departed for meals or smoking. Finally, I've figured a way to resolve some angst about travel schedules. I will be obtaining my tickets for the next leg of the bus journey when I arrive in each city usually 2 days from my arrival date. The 19 year old boy, with an apparent drinking issue, talks with the girl up front. Others sleep, some listen to music, others sight see along the trip from Salt Lake City to Seattle.

Swaying, movement, and the bus moves on. Next stop La Grande. The bus rattles and shakes a bit more than usual as we make our way, is something wrong?

A bit longer and I'll be changing buses in Stanfield, Oregon. Regrets surface and flood my mind, deepening the depression. At the moment, I cannot think, let alone write.