Feeling pretty down in the dumps lately.

No particular reason that I can think of. I just seem to have hit a low point in my mood cycle, assuming I have one.

As a result of this downer, it’s been taking me a really long time to get out of bed. I end up just laying there wanting to get up but lacking the motivation.

Then I will sit up, and stay like that a while, then sit on the edge of the bed for a spell, and only after I have done all that will I actually exit the comfort of my bed.

Which is pretty sad given that all I am going to do is sit at the computer and play video games for hours on end.

Lately, even that has seemed like a challenge, and I have to actively fight the urge to just stay in bed with my comforter and my tablet all day.

I guess I should be worried about that. After all, I’m a lifelong depressive with a history of suicidal ideation. Feeling this depressed is probably a sign of something or other going wrong and maybe I need some kind of treatment.

But that seems absurd to me. What kind of treatment? More drugs? I am not against the idea if it will help, but I am already on Paxil and Wellbutrin.

Not sure what they could add. Heroin?

But I know that’s the best I could get. It’s not like the likes of me could be admitted to a psychiatric facility for intensive therapy for a couple of months.

They need those beds for the serious crazies like the psychotics and those with borderline personality disorder and such.

Not us garden variety pathetic depressives.

Heck, I have never even attempted suicide. How boring can you get?

Whatever. This will pass, whatever it is. Nothing lasts forever, not even depression. Eventually I will feel better and go on with what I laughably call my “life”.

But if I still feel like this Thursday, I’ll talk to Doctor Costin about it during our usual therapy session. Who knows. maybe a med adjustment would actually help.

I doubt it. But then again, I am super depressed right now. So I am probably not the best person to be estimating the odds of something positive happening.

Eh, it’s probably just a buildup of emotional crud in my bloodstream. I have never managed to express my emotions in anything like realtime and so they build up over time until I finally get around to venting here, in this space.

So um, fuck my life. Fuck everything. Fuck everybody. Everything hurts, so everything can go fuck itself with a rusty razor blade. I hate my stupid fucking life.

I’m an unparalleled genius and a really sweet guy with loads of charisma and so very very much to contribute to the world but none of that matters because it’s all locked away behind a wall of mental illness and it will never see the light of day.

Nor will I.

I’m a pathetic son of a bitch who can’t get even the simplest aspects of being human right and who is stuck in a body that is falling apart and it’s only a matter of time before I am confided to a wheelchair or mobility scooter then to a bed and finally end up in a nice warm grave somewhere having done absolutely nothing with my time on Earth.

Well at least it won’t be much of a loss.

Sometimes I wish I could just burn all my pain away in a grand bonfire build on a ledge on the side of a mountain in the middle of a windless winter night.

But I can’t. All I can do is feel what I can, when I can, and try my best to learn to fly without knowing why.

That’s called faith. And I have never had any.

But I am willing to try.

More after the break.

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I feel somewhat better

Getting that negative stuff out of my head did, in fact. help with my depression.

Wow, it really IS anger turned inwards, isn’t it?

I feel like there is a lot more I could say – arguably, a lot more I SHOULD say – but I don’t have the energy to “go there” right now.

Plus, I don’t want to spoil the good mood I’m in because I finally got to see Joe again tonight, albeit only over Zoom.

That is honestly probably for the best because apparently, modern Covid is spreading like wildfire in Richmond Hospital despite everyone being masked and such, so I should probably stay the heck away from there for now.

I shall practice coughing into my inner elbow just in case. \

I also had my follow-up appointment with my eye doctor, Doctor Mackay, today. I was optimistic because the dark spot in my left eye’s visual field is completely gone, and all that remains of my previous ailment is some pretty heavy duty floaters.

Or so I thought. Until the nurse had me cover my right eye and try to read letter off a screen and I could barely even read them in the HUGE font.

So the vision in the left eye is definitely shittier than the vision in the right eye. Which means me and Doctor Mackay ain’t done yet.

In a bit less than a month, I will be seeing him at St. Paul’s again, whereupon he is going to laser whatever blood vessels in my eye still need sealing.

Oh. And despite my optimism, I did have to get a needle in the eye again. Sigh.

And it hurt. But not as much as the previous one did. So… progress?

Doctor Mackay applied the freezing stuff a bunch of times. That did the trick.

In fact, if he’s used just a tiny bit more, I might not have felt it at all.

But he’s a smart fella. He just darts in and gets it done when you’re not expected it. He’s in and out in a split second, so while it still hurts, it’s over quick.

I like this. Gives me a lot less time to dread it.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.