The Stalker Project

Sometimes it’s hard to get up in the morning. The emptiness I feel is almost deafening. I can’t feel happiness anymore. I don’t feel really anything anymore. Not even when I look at my son. He is a spitting image of me, his ear stick out and he is tall and lanky just like me. He is also full of energy, yet that energy never seems to help me. It actually annoys me sometimes. It’s sad, I know, but I just can’t help it.

I woke up to that note on the bedside table next to me that early morning. The two words written in fancy, cursive handwriting was all it took to ruin my world. I knew exactly what it meant but I can’t comprehend why. What did I do? That note ruined everything for me. My happiness, my life, and if I keep going like this, I’m gonna lose my job as well. My son isn’t doing well in school either. He says it’s hard to pay attention because he keeps thinking about the good times. He even told his teacher about how I drink. I was so upset, but can you help the poor kid? He’s only eight and already having to deal with too much.

Maybe I have depression or maybe I’m just feeling down on myself. I’ve never felt this way, I’ve only heard about it. I’m no doctor but the website I’m on seems to tell me I have depression. Who knew my happiness and motivation would drop so low that I stopped paying bills and would have to go to the library for wifi. It makes me feel worse that my debt is piling, I’m getting sadder, and my son is having to go through this with me. And he just won’t sit still. He doesn’t listen to what I say anymore. Just keeps going into his own little world and ignoring me.

I can’t even get myself to go out and run anymore. Running used to be my everything. My little break from the world to feel the wind in my face and the birds chirping early in the morning.  I know I have already lost my cardio strength because I was winded by the third flight of stairs up my office today. The elevator just had to break. What else could go wrong? Oh, right, my son’s teacher told me that if she keeps hearing about me drinking and not helping my child she will report me to CPS. What else can I do to help this pain inside? The only thing I know is whiskey and coke.

Maybe I need to just find a therapist. They may be able to help me. Get me back to the point where I’m not on the verge of losing my job and my son. It would literally kill me to loose my son. He’s my rock even if he gets on my nerves sometimes.

Maybe I could sell my car to pay for therapist visits. How much would my car sell for? Let’s see… Two thousand dollars?! Only that! It doesn’t even have a lot of miles on it and gets great gas mileage. Well so much for that.

“When can we go home, daddy?” My son asks with his voiced laced with annoyance

“When I’m finished researching some stuff, David.” I tried not to seem so upset but I couldn’t help it

“I just want to go play with some friends daddy. They’re more fun.”

His face visibly fell. I have never felt worse making my son feel bad. He used to tell me how much fun I was. Oh the times we had. Maybe I do need help. On to finding a cheap therapist in the area….