Thoughts From An Incoherent Self-Defeatist

A short short-story, with influences combining from the works of Dostoevsky, Eliot, and Connor Oberst (the musician)

I’ve been bed ridden for the last three weeks, unable to leave the covers. My appetite is lost (I can’t seem to find it three time a day). For three weeks, I’ve been a waste of time and energy, and hard-earned money. I’ve been guilty, because there is always something to feel sorry for, and I succumbed to the overwhelming sorrow. The days have floated by aimlessly, and I greedily lie here and soak up the pain I feel I need. I read, and read, and read…

 

And now I write, because I’ve been lonely, lost in a crowd, and want to reach out… to you. I am absent from the world, though, and see that it makes no difference. The sun will rise only to set, and set only to rise once more, no matter what happens here, and all the colors will stay the same whether you or I appear in the picture or not. I’ve been happy before, not long ago, but depression is tougher than the pills I swallow. How can I face the world now, absent for three weeks? In only three weeks, I’ve been fired from my internship, dropped out of school, and alienated my girlfriend. She calls, and calls, and calls…

 

I deserve my guilt, because I’m a wretch, now, on a path to shame and loss. And how long until I fall deeply into debt? In an ideal world, I could freeze time and remain secluded for weeks at a time, then seamlessly walk back into the world without missing a beat. But time, that b*****d son of my absent God, he cuts into me as I wait, and wait, and wait…

 

And then my parents, oh my, they give me the most anxiety! “How are you, sweetie?” I don’t want to hear it, I can’t take the lies that I force myself to tell them every time we talk, to keep their spirits up. Because, I hate how they worry, my mother especially. My father, I hardly knew his pain, what led to his pent up aggression that could be fierce, nor why it rubbed off on me. I wish I could disappear from those two, and become never known by their memory, so they won’t have to waste their money or catch my contagious sorrow. It grows, and grows, and grows…

 

How much longer will I remain here? Maybe soon, I will get skin cancer from all my past days in the sun, when I soaked up the UV rays because I could, and dove into the pools of summer’s joy. Then, I will sit in a hospital death bed, and do the same I do now. At least then, I will have a good excuse. I think, I will go for a walk now, as soon as this album is over. Maybe they will be kind and let me back in. Maybe they will say, “ooooh, I feel so sorry for him. He thins, and thins, and thins…”

Author's Note

It's out there... I haven't written a story in a while. Is it satisfying, or does it leave you wanting?

Reviews

[J.P.O.et]

This is awesome Travis, PERFECT
I really f'in loved this
How each paragraph ends, and ends, and ends
The last line was great and somehow hysterical to me
"ooooh, I feel so sorry for him. He thins, and thins, and thins....."
Wasn't expecting this but glad I checked it, it's going in my lib
J.P.O.et

[No one]

My praises for this story echo those of the other reviewers. Your narrator spoke about his subject- being bedridden and alone with one's thoughts- from what seemed a seat of knowledge (or a bed of knowledge?).

This line didn't work well to me: depression is tougher than the pills I swallow. (I'm assuming you're swallowing pills to combat the depression? Or for pain because of your mysterious ailment?)
---*I've been happy before, not long ago, but depression is tougher than the pills I swallow.---
*I was happy before, not long ago, but started swallowing pills (antidepressants?) to get back to normal? to elevate my mood? to feel happy again?
In the following sentence I feel the tense should be sustained instead of shifting from present to past: ---And now I write, because I've been lonely, lost in a crowd, and want to reach out� to you.---
*And now I write, because I AM lonely, lost in a crowd, and...

[J.P. Bristow]

yes yes...I like it....you didn't cross that line that makes it a pity party but more or less a self examination of value and presence. But if we wait ...if we wonder......we inevitably justify the proverbial intent of silence. Interesting read....you are one of my new favs!!

[Kasey Klein]

Hey Travis.

Love the line: "But time, that b*****d son of my absent God"

I like the self-absorption of the protagonist, the juxtaposition of "The sun will rise only to set, and set only to rise once more, no matter what happens here, and all the colors will stay the same whether you or I appear in the picture or not" paired with "ooooh, I feel so sorry for him. He thins, and thins, and thins�"

[Texas Ink]

Nice work man, I'm not sure it does either. Haha its strange to me, the work...just is.

[Thanh]

it a great story. look forward for more story from you.

[April Child]

All it leaves me wanting is to ready more of your work. Second piece of yours I have read today and I think I found something I like :)

Great writing, oozing apathy and indulgent in guilt, pain and depression but not at all depressing to read.

Love the pattern of the repeated verbs at the end of each paragraphs.