Down, down, down. I feel like a bad blues song.
Last night I surfaced to consciousness over and again, each time just enough to recognize that I had been dreaming and now wasn’t. The effect has been that I feel that I dreamt straight through the night, but with so many different dreams that all I can remember is a blurred collage of scenes and feelings and understood situations.
This morning I rose at normal time, drug through the house to make tea, and then sank into myself in front of the computer. After twenty minutes of sifting words and feeling more and more of less and less, I realized that, whatever was wrong with me, it was leaving me with a complete lack of shits to give. I went back to bed and failed to sleep, and have been just generally moping all morning.
I’m not used to this. Normally, if I’m depressed, there’s a reason for it. This waking up screwed up sucks. I’ll run at lunch. Hard to be depressed after running.
Easy to be depressed while doing it, but hard afterwards.
Crossposted from Epinepherine & Sophistry