I even stopped keeping track of myself in my journal, which is odd, because that's exactly WHY I started writing in one. I guess we can just take it as read that the reason there are no entries from the 26th of June on (though I'm starting back today) is because I just didn't feel like doing much of anything but binge-watching Torchwood with Mom. I haven't even eaten much in the past week because I just lost all hope.
That's a running theme, by the way. You can tell how well I feel by whether I've drunk any coffee, and it spirals out of control from there into "has she eaten yet?" territory. I don't feel good about myself or my life as I know it, i.e., the anxiety is creeping up and biting me, or the depression is making itself known, and I just don't want to eat. I'll sleep for 14 to 16 hours a day, and stare at the ceiling fan for four, and sit on the couch for four. I might nibble on something because I know I have to, but I don't feel like eating at all.
When I'm employed, these are the majority of my sick days. I can't get out of bed, I cry interminably like my heart is breaking into a million pieces, and I feel like I'm lost on a planet that's not my own. The thoughts range from "I'm not worth any of this (meaning my surroundings)" to "I don't belong to this world anymore. Nobody wants to spend time with me, nobody has any patience with me, I just want to waste away into nothing."And I argue with myself about those statements. It's a war with myself.
“The deeper I go into myself the more I realize that I am my own enemy.”I don't know the context of that quote, but it is extremely apt, no? The thing is that more than anything, I don't want to go any deeper into myself. I feel like I am a past master of introspection and brooding. It's dark in there, and I just want to see some glimmer of light.
― Floriano Martins
What would that glimmer of light look like? What would it feel like? These are questions I can't adequately answer... and I wish I could.
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