(no subject)

[scriptory]

Realization: I get the self-hate sort of depression from shame and embrassment more than anxiety or stress. Yesterday's catastrophy is making me so self loathing because I know I'll have to tell people, not because of what happened. It'd be fine - sad and sucky but fine - if I could just not tell, if I could just take care of it myself. I told Row and Jess and Caitlin (S.), and I'll tell Emily. But not the 'rents. Gah.

I'm sick of life, how 'bout you?