I am a bucket with a hole in its base. Nothing I put in will last. I turn to online dating in need of elevating but meaningful connection is scarce.
I make constant trips to the kitchen, placating the beast inside with food. Yet it continues to claw like marketers at the door, leaving me in a terrible mood.
I fill the void with shopping. I cannot close my wardrobe and drawers. Yet something’s still missing, there’s a voice that keeps hissing and I cannot tackle any chores.
I waste my days shackled to the computer. I check social media and emails like Skinner’s rat. When the bell in the corner turns red addiction is bred but in no time I’m left feeling flat.
I don’t want to do anything. Nothing brings me lasting pleasure. So I write out these woes which I call Dopamine Blues and to the psychiatrist I will endeavour.