The world according to farmboy

How are you?

Fucked.

I'm sorry.

Why are you sorry?

Because nothing ever gets better or changes in The World According to farmboy.

You know that's not true...

I know, but that's the way I feel. I'm sorry. Maybe you should leave. I don't want to waste your time.

What are you talking about?

I feel like I'm incurable. I don't know. I'm...

Depressed?

(starts to cry) Yeah...

Angry? Sad? Lonely?

All of the above.

So you're going to add to it by calling yourself incurable?

I feel a little better that way. I don't know why.

There is nobody I can talk to, nothing I can do. (crying) It's too fuckin' hard. And the sad part is that it shouldn't be. But -- like I was telling you yesterday -- it all gets filtered through my mental illness and it comes out a thousand times worse than what it should be. I'm isolated...

By your own choice...

There is nobody I feel comfortable talking to. I can't afford help. I can't even get any fuckin' weed. Which is really fucked, because even though it won't change anything, it'll calm me down and I could exercise and play guitar, both of which I really don't want to do right now.

What do you want to do?

You know the answer. I wanna get stoned and eat this healthy soup that I made and play guitar and write songs and believe that it's not all in vain. I want to believe in the illusion that things are good. But they're not. Not for me, not for a lot of people. But there's a difference in my case: Everything gets filtered...

Through the mental illness.

Through the fuckin' mental illness, yes.

You're not the only one in the world that has mental illness, farmboy.

Is that supposed to make me feel better?

Sorry. Your emotions need to be taken seriously. I really didn't mean that to sound so judgemental. I really was just stating a fact.

I'm sorry too. I'm extra oversensitive these days.

Uh...can I ask you something?

You're gonna ask me anyway, so shoot.

Are you taking your medications?

Religiously. But not the medication that counts right now. Not the medication that would offer actual relief.

I'm glad you're taking them. I would consider taking an anti-anxiety pill tonight. So you can sleep.

I probably will. Maybe I'll wash it down with wine.

(frustrated) Come on, farmboy...

I don't know what to do.

Let me give you a couple of lines from other people's songs...

All right. What are they?

Here's Bruce Springsteen:

She stares off alone into the night

With the eyes of one who hates for just being born

Now, you gotta change the gender, but that's pretty accurate for me right now.

The other is a song by Modest Mouse:

I'm trying

I'm trying to

Drink away the part of the day

I cannot sleep away

Are you going to harm yourself?

You mean attempt suicide?

Yes.

My fear is that I will someday. Sometimes I think I should research ways, maybe find a way that looks like it wasn't intentional. But, no, I'm not gonna kill myself. I think there's too many people who might feel guilty and that they're to blame, but they're not guilty of anything. And I have a niece that's almost four years old, and, well, we know each other. I've been there since the day she was born. (starts to cry again) And I can't do that to her. I won't do that to her.

Good.

Yeah, I guess. Fuck. I'm sorry, man, I'm just in a fuckin' state of mind that is unhealthy.

Farmboy, is there anything I can do?

Oh, you're great. Listening to me be Mister Pitiful is plenty enough.

Thank you.

I'm always here.

I know. Thanks.

I mean it.

I know you do. And I appreciate it, I do. And I may need you. I've needed you a lot.

You get some rest tonight, you hear? I care about you. Lots of people care about you. We want you to feel good.

Thanks.

Call on me if you need an ear. Take that pill, farmboy. You're going to feel worse if you're run down.

Okay.

Good night, farmboy.

Thanks. Good night.