I Felt Bad - Prose

I Felt Bad

I felt bad, so I ate three candy bars in one sitting.

Then I felt better.

Then the good feeling wore off, and I felt worse because my body felt run down

And my soul felt depressed.

And I was disappointed in myself for eating three candy bars in one sitting

And disrespecting my body.

It was good at the time, but I was over it.

And the thing I felt bad about was still there.

It didn’t care.

It just looked at me from the closet.

The next day I felt bad, so I drank eleven beers myself.

Then I felt better.

Then the good feeling wore off, and I felt worse because my body felt sick

And my soul felt depressed.

And I was disappointed in myself for drinking eleven beers

And getting sloppy drunk.

It was fun at the time, but was over it.

And the thing I felt bad about was still there.

It didn’t care.

It just looked at me from the closet.

The next day I felt bad, so I watched football for eight hours straight.

Then I felt better.

Then the good feeling wore off, and I felt worse because my body felt ignored.

And my soul felt depressed.

And I was disappointed in myself for neglecting pretty much everything important

And wasting a whole day on something that doesn’t have any lasting benefit.

It was fun at the time, but I was over it.

And the thing I felt bad about was still there.

It didn’t care.

It just looked at me from the closet.

Now it was time to get serious.

“I’m going to church,” I said.

Then I felt better.

Because he told me things I could understand, and everything made sense to my mind.

Then the good feeling wore off, and I felt worse because… the good feeling wore off.

And my soul felt depressed.

I was proud of myself for trying...

But what the hell?

It felt good at the time, but I was over it.

And the thing I felt bad about was still there.

It didn’t care.

It just looked at me from the closet.

But I did see it blink.

The next day I went to India to seek a holy man.

Then I felt better

Because he told me things I couldn’t understand, and everything seemed so poetic.

Then the good feeling wore off, and I felt worse because now my mind was fully confused.

And my soul felt depressed.

And I beat myself up for all this meandering

And all the money squandered

And my life seemed crooked

And even my mind was lost, let alone my heart.

It felt good at the time, but I was over it.

And the thing I felt bad about was still there.

It didn’t care.

It just looked at me from the closet.

   

But it’s triumphant smile dropped just a hint.

But I was now thoroughly pissed.

And since I still had a week to go in India

I went back to that Holy man

And cried

And cussed

And yelled

But he just looked at me

With eyes like the Thing In My Closet

But wiser and far kinder

And told me

To go home

And learn to sit

And learn to breathe

And learn to quiet the mind that thinks it has to

Eat

Drink

Distract Itself

Be more “spiritual”

In order to stop seeing the Thing In The Closet

He said that I was the guru

And that he was nothing

And that I am always connected to life

If I choose the moment and stop fighting it

And that connection to life

Is all I am seeking.

“But that Thing is scary,” I told him.

“You are the guru,” is all he said.

And I was dismissed.

When I got home

I changed some things

I learned to sit still

I learned to breathe in and out slowly

I learned to quiet the mind

I stopped eating, drinking and busying myself

To distraction

To keep me from looking at

The Thing In The Closet.

Over time, the Thing started to change.

 
It turned vaguely human.

It shrunk.

It turned into a child.

Eventually I could see

That the child

Was myself

That time so long ago

That I had felt

Alone.

--Aspen Marley

December 3, 2015