On spunk and vigour
This should be short and sweet, in contrast to my usual entries. I'm feeling a bit melodramatic right now, so I'm sorry if I ooze pretentiousness or anything else. I believe I'm having an episode.
In laymen's terms, I'm depressed. I don't know why. It has been a struggle as of late; this springbreak may be the first (in my immediate memory, anyways) that I was depressed. I realise now how worried I am, and always will be, about money and my weight.
I'm feeling pretty neurotic right now. At this time of night, the drive from my friend's house to home should be 2-5 minutes; I made it in about 20-30. I had my first BLT tonight, made by brian's grandma. I laugh at inappropriate moments.
Going through brian's photos of high school made me reflect on where my life has taken me. I also ran into a high school classmate who works at Yesterday's books. I ate lunch with Patrick Lowey. A lot of nostalgia. A simple day, but for some reason, it resonated with anxiety. I want orange juice now.
I'm not happy, and I'm not sure how to be. I realise now, what my weight is; it's a marker of my unhappiness. It shows how much baggage I'm carrying around with me. The one time in my life I successfully lowered my metaphoric/literal "in box" I ended up trying to kill myself. I don't want to die. But some days I'm not sure I want to live. Becoming catholic isn't going to solve anything; even if I can maintain my sanity and graduate, my BA won't mean much. Everything matters though. Typing this entry somehow matters. But why? anyone can type about being depressed at close to three in the morning. or type. or be depressed. or simply be. and thus, procrastination leads me to what i pereceive to be the logical follow-up: if it can be put-off, why do it?
I s'pose that's how I feel about life most times. It's just every now and then, when I try to figure out what I'm doing with my life --like right now -- I experience anxiety because I don't know how to answer my question. Indeed, if it can be put-off, why do anything?
In laymen's terms, I'm depressed. I don't know why. It has been a struggle as of late; this springbreak may be the first (in my immediate memory, anyways) that I was depressed. I realise now how worried I am, and always will be, about money and my weight.
I'm feeling pretty neurotic right now. At this time of night, the drive from my friend's house to home should be 2-5 minutes; I made it in about 20-30. I had my first BLT tonight, made by brian's grandma. I laugh at inappropriate moments.
Going through brian's photos of high school made me reflect on where my life has taken me. I also ran into a high school classmate who works at Yesterday's books. I ate lunch with Patrick Lowey. A lot of nostalgia. A simple day, but for some reason, it resonated with anxiety. I want orange juice now.
I'm not happy, and I'm not sure how to be. I realise now, what my weight is; it's a marker of my unhappiness. It shows how much baggage I'm carrying around with me. The one time in my life I successfully lowered my metaphoric/literal "in box" I ended up trying to kill myself. I don't want to die. But some days I'm not sure I want to live. Becoming catholic isn't going to solve anything; even if I can maintain my sanity and graduate, my BA won't mean much. Everything matters though. Typing this entry somehow matters. But why? anyone can type about being depressed at close to three in the morning. or type. or be depressed. or simply be. and thus, procrastination leads me to what i pereceive to be the logical follow-up: if it can be put-off, why do it?
I s'pose that's how I feel about life most times. It's just every now and then, when I try to figure out what I'm doing with my life --like right now -- I experience anxiety because I don't know how to answer my question. Indeed, if it can be put-off, why do anything?