lienne: Outer space. (emotion: not in touch with reality)
But the substance of my life is fucking depressing. I'm not in crisis or anything, at least I don't think so, I am just full of ugh and empty of motivation.

Here I am going to insert a cut for Talking About Depression Shit.

a cut )
lienne: A fountain pen nib, lying on paper. (Default)
Lately (read: for the last few days) I have been feeling anxiety.

This is something that, largely, does not happen. So I am really poorly equipped to deal with it. This leads to extraordinarily useful* and therapeutic** pastimes like curling up into a ball of shivering misery on my bed, browsing TV Tropes as a form of escapism, or typing "aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah" repeatedly into chat windows. Anything I do to try to combat the anxiety seems to make it worse because it involves thinking about the anxiety. Anything I do to try to distract myself from the anxiety seems to make it worse because then I feel anxiety because I'm not getting useful things done. And when I try to get useful things done, I feel anxiety. For no good reason I can discern.

:(

*SARCASM
**SARCASM AGAIN
lienne: A fountain pen nib, lying on paper. (Default)
I am ignorant about everything ever and completely incapable of doing anything useful or interesting and generally a waste of air.

^^^^ I'm pretty sure that thought is not an objective, accurate assessment of reality. Now if only I could make it go away.
lienne: A fountain pen nib, lying on paper. (Default)
I am so utterly fucked over in the brain department this week that I can't even coherently explain what is wrong. To myself.

Instead of staring blankly at this entry for another five minutes while I try to come up with words, I'm just going to do this: !@#$%^&

I feel better.* Time to write some porn.

*Not very, but some.
lienne: A fountain pen nib, lying on paper. (Default)
My head hurts. I managed to feel like a human being while shovelling snow for a while earlier, but now I'm back to being a lump of vaguely person-shaped meat. It's... nrrgh. Constant exhaustion. I want to do useful things and I can't. At all. x_x

In other news, James Marsters should not still be this hot. He has been typecast so very very badly and I don't care because I get to watch Spike make out with Jack Harkness.
lienne: A fountain pen nib, lying on paper. (Default)
Exhaustion: not letting up.

Wakeup times: early, and with creepy dreams. (I stole from a Chapters by accident! Wtf?) On the plus side, I can go back to sleep after. On the minus side,

I literally forgot what I was saying there in the middle of the sentence. That should tell you how tired I am lately.

Staying up late so I'll sleep later: not effective.

Aaaaaaand... ability to motivate self to get shit done: minimal to nonexistent. I might end up not going to one of my classes today, purely because I feel like shit and don't want to face up to the fact that I didn't get my homework done. I want to say this is depression-related, but the ability of my brain to think coherently for solid intervals longer than about thirty seconds is fucking shot.

Edit: Caz-- font-wise, what do you think about Georgia as a replacement for Century Gothic?

Second, more topical edit: Hi, exhaustion so bad I literally have trouble standing up straight. How're you today?

Going to: a) get dressed b) have breakfast c) go to Psych. I can always catch up with Russian, right?

This is two years in a row now everything's started going to shit in late January. What the fuck, brain. What the fuck.
lienne: A fountain pen nib, lying on paper. (Default)
I seem to have shot right through insomnia and out the other side, and now I can't go half an hour without nearly dropping off where I sit.

Thanks, brain. That was so helpful.
lienne: A fountain pen nib, lying on paper. (Default)
I am not doing well right now.

Not remotely.
lienne: A fountain pen nib, lying on paper. (Default)
I don't know what the hell it is, but I haven't gotten a good night's sleep in... I can't remember how long. I just. Dammit, if I go to bed more than eight hours before my alarm's set, that should be enough, right? No, apparently not. I inevitably wake up early - like, by a few hours - and toss and turn and stuff until my alarm goes. Grr. I can barely type anymore - I'm trying to make icons for a few possible RP journals I might be making soon, and it's just. Not. Happening. BAH. And if I take a nap, I'll just fuck myself over further for getting a good night's sleep later today. >_< Dammit.

This ends today's totally nonproductive ranting.
lienne: A fountain pen nib, lying on paper. (Default)
Seriously, that's... three times in the last month or two I've had dreams about a particular ex-friend of mine renewing contact with me. They're always nice, and happy, and reasonably plausible, and then I wake up and go "oh dammit, none of that is actually true." It makes me sad.
lienne: A fountain pen nib, lying on paper. (Default)
It hits me at the oddest times.

Like reading the synopsis for an episode of Supernatural - 2x20, to be exact. )

Tags

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags