Trash on the Recorder

I've been trying to learn the New York Dolls song on the recorder.  Do you remember the recorder?  The recorder is a wind instrument that, when I was in grade school, they made us learn.  Or try to learn.  As far as I can tell, no amount of musical talent or practice can make a recorder sound good.  I'm trying to overcome by anxiety and depression by doing activities that normally I would never dare to try.  I guess I think that by breaking out of my daily rut and doing weird things, maybe I will rewire my brain and stop being such a miserable fuck.  So I got on Amazon and purchased a Yamaha Soprano Recorder YRS in transparent red.  Every Saturday, I go downtown to the corner of Idaho and 11th and practice playing Trash by the New York Dolls.  Practicing in public is part of my strategy to overcome my fears.  I take an empty five gallon bucket to sit on.  I work for a painting company, so five gallon buckets are easy to come by.
People pretty much ignore me.  Some people look at me and pause, like maybe they think I'm a street musician and then quickly move on.  The noise coming out of the recorder is not music.  Its a horrific sound.  One day a kid spit on me.  He must have been twelve or thirteen.  He was alone, walking down the street.  He didn't pause.  He didn't listen to me play for a second.  In mid stride, he turned his head and spit in my face and walked on.  I was so shocked, I didn't do anything.  Later, laying in bed unable to sleep and replaying the event in my mind, I fantasized about chasing him down and beating the shit out of him.  But I didn't do that.  I wiped the spit from my face, picked up my five gallon bucket, and went home.  

I Don't Like Happy People

There are only two kinds of happy people:  young or stupid.  Young people are able to be happy only because, up to that point in their lives, the universe has not yet shit on their birthday cake.  It will happen eventually.  Someone will break their heart or some tragedy will befall them and then the corners of their smile won't scale quite so high and the light in their eyes will visibly dim.  If you are young and happy, just wait.  Just wait.  Stupid people can be happy because they have no fucking idea what is going on.  They are not paying attention.  If you are happy, take a closer look at the news.  Look around you.  The world is going to shit.  Where the fuck do you get off being happy?  I don't like happy people.  I can't be in the same room as them.  They make me uncomfortable.  

I am so depressed

It's 5:00 a.m. and I am so depressed.  I am dreading going to work.  I would like to know why.  What am I afraid of?  My job is a pretty safe place.  It is challenging work and can be stressful, but so far I have shown that I am at least competent at it.  My boss is one of my oldest and closest friends.  He is like a brother to me.  He knows my struggle with mental health issues and is understanding and supportive.  But every week my mood starts to improve as the week moves closer to Friday and then crushing depression and anxiety move back in on Sunday and Monday.  What am I afraid of?
I am afraid of being judged.
I am afraid of being judged and being deemed unworthy. 
I am afraid of my life meaning nothing. 
I am afraid that people smile to my face and secretly loathe me and talk about me behind my back. 
I am afraid of growing old and being lonely, but I'm also afraid of letting people get too close.  People can hurt you worse than you thought possible.  
I dread the monotony of life.  Is this all there is?  Wake, shit, eat, work, eat, sleep, repeat.  Is that all there is to life?  Day after day for years - this is all there is?  It's mostly monotony punctuated by brief periods of joy or pleasure and longer periods of suffering. 
My writing comes across like a whiny, angsty, teenager.  That's another thing I'm afraid of - that I will share my deepest, most secret feelings and it will turn out that I am just a pathetic complainer. 

I am trying to do things to improve my life.  I'm back in counseling and I've started sharing my mental health struggles with a couple of understanding friends.  Another fear:  being that friend who no one wants to talk to any more because I am needy and I drain everyone around me of any good feelings.  

I wish I had died in my sleep.  I don't want to be here any more.  But I am here and I don't have the courage to kill myself, so here is how I am going to get through my day.  I am going to go make myself another cup of coffee.  Then I am going to get dressed and brush my teeth and hair.  I am going to go to work.  I have a list of the things I have to get done today.  I am going to take care of those items one by one as best as I can.  I will only deal with one item at a time.  I won't worry about the entire list - just one item at a time.  I am going to take a Xanax to help numb the feelings I feel because I can't tolerate them.  At the end of the day, I am going to come home, take a hot shower, and then crawl into bed.  That's the only thing I look forward to - getting back to my bed.  Maybe tonight will be the night I die in my sleep.  One can hope.