Drowning

"It was stupid," Simon said. "I wasn't hungry, but I ate the whole thing. The whole bowl. I just kept eating and eating. And I was so stuffed. felt like crap." 

"Compulsive behaviour," Susan said.


"It's been like that with everything. Talking with my co-workers. Watching movies. I'm doing all these things but I don't know why. I don't feel good. About anything."


"Go on," Susan prompted.


"I tried writing about it, in a journal. Like you suggested. But... well, it hurt. Does that make sense? It hurt to try and put it into words. Felt so rough and jagged... I feel tired all the time. Plus I'm out of shape. I can't get motivated."


"You tend to be hard on yourself," Susan observed.


"Yeah, but when I hear stuff like that... I feel I'm not being hard enough. I'm not being the person I'm supposed to be."


"What about the person you want to be?"


"I don't know. I sleep odd hours. Go to the office. Put some time in the field. The cases I'm on don't feel like they matter. Any agent could do them, and it won't really matter either way if they ever get closed."

"What do you think you need, Simon?" she asked.

"You know I hate that. The whole 'getting your needs met' angle. Like we're these mechanical processes of exchange. Treating our feelings like an economy."

Simon sighed. They were silent for a while. 

When you feel like there is something wrong, how do you know if it's the world that's wrong or if it's you? How do you know what to change? 

"I feel like I should go home," Simon said. "But I know that when I get there I'll feel like I need to go out. Then I'll end up going out to the coffee shop. And when I get there I'll feel like I need to go home."