(no subject)
I don't know what's wrong with me, or what's been wrong with me for the past two weeks or so. I completely failed my math test, barely passed my history test, and frequently lose concentration in the rest of my classes. Nothing cheers me up these days, either, and I've found it difficult to sit down and write like I used to. Mother suspects the worst, of course, saying I've slipped far into a state of depression that I can't get myself out of. She exaggerates a little, but I believe she may be right. All my thoughts have been morbid as of late. Eugène has remarked that I'm growing thinner and paler by the day. The enormous black cloud hangs over me again, heavy with rain and threatening to pour down at any moment.
I don't know what to do anymore.
Father wrote a letter to me the other day, saying how everything's fine and dandy where he is, and that he's been transferred to the Virgin Islands or some similar island, but his letter didn't bring me joy. Not even when he promised to let me come visit him sometime during the winter break. By then, he said, he'd be in Europe. I wrote a reply, lying through my teeth, of course.
Now that I think about it, I must have been this way ever since I started school, but the illness worsens by the week. It frustrates me. What is my excuse for missing the school's production of The Phantom of the Opera, which I had been looking forward to for some time? Oh, it's nothing really, I was just in the house, moping about and refusing to go anywhere, because I felt there was no purpose in it. Still feel there is no purpose in it.
Normally I'm rather attracted to social gatherings, because I have a reputation for ranting about the horrible conditions of the world's oppressed, the unfortunate innocents on Death Row, etc. I haven't gotten the chance to do that yet, so I'm hoping that... whatever is going on with me stops, and soon.
I know I have an illness, although I try to ignore it by not taking my pills regularly. Mother says this down spell is particularly bad this time around, and she's afraid if it continues, I'll just wither away like the flowers on her windowsills that she never waters.
Does anyone have any suggestions about what I should do? (I warn you, though, if you scold me about not taking medicine, I will ignore you.)
I don't know what to do anymore.
Father wrote a letter to me the other day, saying how everything's fine and dandy where he is, and that he's been transferred to the Virgin Islands or some similar island, but his letter didn't bring me joy. Not even when he promised to let me come visit him sometime during the winter break. By then, he said, he'd be in Europe. I wrote a reply, lying through my teeth, of course.
Now that I think about it, I must have been this way ever since I started school, but the illness worsens by the week. It frustrates me. What is my excuse for missing the school's production of The Phantom of the Opera, which I had been looking forward to for some time? Oh, it's nothing really, I was just in the house, moping about and refusing to go anywhere, because I felt there was no purpose in it. Still feel there is no purpose in it.
Normally I'm rather attracted to social gatherings, because I have a reputation for ranting about the horrible conditions of the world's oppressed, the unfortunate innocents on Death Row, etc. I haven't gotten the chance to do that yet, so I'm hoping that... whatever is going on with me stops, and soon.
I know I have an illness, although I try to ignore it by not taking my pills regularly. Mother says this down spell is particularly bad this time around, and she's afraid if it continues, I'll just wither away like the flowers on her windowsills that she never waters.
Does anyone have any suggestions about what I should do? (I warn you, though, if you scold me about not taking medicine, I will ignore you.)