I wish it was still night. Wanting outside to be dark as I lie here in bed with my blinds closed. It is sunny and bright here. Ice from the night before melts on car windows; exhaust from pickups with bad mufflers fill the sky. The heat is on. I keep forgetting we’re going into winter.

Starting my day, I notice a Christmas tree in the window across the street. Are we really that close? Another year passed. And how strange this year was. Not like recent years. It was a year of settling, yet, unsettled. Moving into a rented room with the fear that at any moment the rent could go up. Or, the building sold and then kicked out. Or, I don’t know. Anything is a possibility.

No longer do I work. I never really did. Different jobs, different professions. I was fired from all of them, or quit due to anxiety and mania. One day I’d be in a newspaper office and the next leaving town; gone in a flash. Leaving a wife behind. Taking off across America as I always have. I should have been a truck driver. Too bad I’m scared to drive. I prefer taking the bus or a train. Hitchhiking on back roads and highways. Getting rid of my pickup was the best decision I ever made. I had a sense of freedom. Wasn’t weighed down by money. I could afford to be a bum. Or, a bipolar maniac. You choose.

Some would say, I chose this life. And maybe I did. Not sure if I chose it or if it chose me. I’m beginning to talk to myself more and more. The suicidal thoughts are constant. It’s going to be a long winter.