So, I fear I'm slipping into a depression. I woke up this morning at three in the afternoon. So, technically, it wasn't even this morning. But still. I didn't get to sleep until a quarter to five, and even then, it was punctuated with tossing and turning, weird noises and even weirder dreams. When I actually did get up, I had to drag myself out of bed. I never have to drag myself out of bed. I lay there for an hour after I wake up and then get restless, so I get up.
I've been talking to myself. Answering myself too. While I've nearly always done this, my multiple personalities seem to be making more constant appearances and I fear the worst. I reply to my own comments with dry sarcasm as if someone else were in the room with me. This is not a good thing and I am well aware of this fact, hence my fright.
I also seem to speaking as though I am from the late 1950s. To which I say the following:
WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME?!
I'm afraid that everything I mentioned in my last post is finally building into something that, once it finally breaks, I won't be able to sift through and climb on top of. I fear that, for the first time, it'll get the best of me and I'll stay buried underneath and no one, not even JD or Michelle or Emma or Elaina or Flo will be able to work together to drag me out. Work is boring and repetative. Home is ear-piercingly quiet, even when Mum moves about. And I just find myself not caring about anything anymore. In fact, I truly believe that I wouldn't even care to shower if I a) didn't have to work, or, b) could actually remember how much better showering makes me feel.
I'm teetering on the blurred edge of depression and living for the sake of living. I need help. I need ... someone.
May 19, 2010
May 05, 2010
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
