I’m a suicidal depressive, life sucks, blah blah blah, what else is new? Oh I don’t know, how about actually attempting to do something about it? That’s the one thing that’s been missing for the longest time since Fall 2013: actually doing something about my circumstance so I’m not permanently disturbed by my insanity. I hit a roadblock in the form of Journey Mental Health, the place people recommended the most to me, when I was told to pretty much fuck off because I had no insurance. After I told them I was a suicidal depressive as well. Got plenty depressed and suicidal after that point, and really haven’t bothered to do much else since.
Why? Because my will was weak, that’s why. All roads look like rubbish after a long enough time, and my earnest effort to seek mental health was smothered by one setback: money. And yes, oh so many other options for me if I just happened to look and see…but again, all roads are rubbish, so why even bother? This mentality has pretty much been my life up until a month ago, when a friend of mine did something incredibly stupid: he made a strong effort to have me start talking to him about my issues.
Stupid, because that’s a floodgate of rubbish I wouldn’t wish upon anyone, and it’s well noted your friends are not supposed to be a dumping ground for your issues. Then again, friends are supposed to be opened up to…but not opened up to? It’s confusing jargon, and I’ve given up on even thinking of the contradiction and not bother opening up at all. That I already air out rubbish to the public like this is another thing altogether.
But the point is that for whatever reason, my friend made a concentrated effort that I could open up and speak to him, and now someone is much more in tune with my madness. If this will benefit me or ruin a friendship shall be found in due time. The talks have otherwise been ongoing, and I’ve enjoyed them and actually having someone not tell me, “Everything is going to be okay in the long run,” and that sometimes things just suck. You have no idea how much better that feels.
One of the things I was asked to do as per our discussions was write about something in a positive perspective, or at the very least neutral. Troublesome, because not much comes out of me this day that isn’t tainted by bits of frustration or sadness. But apparently my friend noted I was still somewhat capable of doing this, and is thus forcing me to follow through under penalty of being a little disappointed. At least I think that’s all. And because I don’t have anything that comes to mind, I figured I would use the input he offered, which I think he meant as a joke. Know what we are here to talk about? Burgers. But not just any burgers! Red Robin burgers.
I can count the number of times I’ve been to Red Robin on my hand, but the place has always been a special place for me, always bringing me up when I’m down (except in utter misery, but that’s a given and only happened once). I’m a sucker for good burgers, and the large menu of them RB has makes me smile. Not to mention the fact they throw in bottomless steak fries with the majority of their items, and I’m in fat man heavy. Burger cooked rare with plenty of crunch from the toppings, spice applied because it makes living wondrous, dipping fries in the leftover grease, and washing it all down with a milkshake. Preferably one infused with beer, because heck yes.
The problem with loving something is how much you need to invest in it, and while the fries may be bottomless at Red Robin, the prices are still higher than I can afford at this time. Hell, can’t afford any form of restaurant food at this time, and have to make do with what the food pantry can offer. I may break down now and then, so I’ll be sure to relish the Red Robin when I can. May RB still be around for those times, as with anything else that I can appreciate in the coming months.