I hate mental illness sometimes.

It just fucks everything up. I’m fine one minute, then sad the next. For no fucking reason. And it sucks.

There’s nothing that happened today to make me down, but since I’ve gotten home from work it’s started.

I feel hopeless. I feel like it’s never going to end–never mind that I don’t know what “it” is or why I want “it” to end. Don’t start freaking out though; I know that “it” isn’t life. I want life to keep going on. I don’t want that to end. Just…something.

It’s the usual depression symptoms. Loss of interest in the things I like to do. Withdrawal into myself. General malaise. It’s actually quite boring. I’m bored with depression. Go figure.

I’m just over it. Sick and tired of it. I need to kick my own ass into gear. Bust my chops. Smack myself upside the head and tell myself to quit whining and do something.

If only I could find the energy to do all that.


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