Still feeling fairly depressed.

I’m beginning to think that my sleep apnea is to blame. I am not getting enough oxygen in my sleep and the effects of that are persisting into my waking hours.

What I need is to get some fresh air and sunshine and become at peace with my environment and in sync with my surroundings.

But odds are, I will end up doing the same stupid shit as usual. Whatever it is I need, or want, or just think sounds like a good idea, I still have to have the spoons to do it.

And I don’t have a lot of spoons right now.

I feel scared. And small. And overwhelmed. I feel like I am one tiny defenseless creature in a world too big, too hostile, too cold, and above all too LOUD to cope with.

And it makes me want to run away and hide forever.

Which is, more or less, what I have been doing for my entire adult life. That’s the inevitable end stage of all the fear and anxiety that my depression creates. If you always feel hunted and exposed, the only solution is to remain where you feel the most safe, or rather, the least unsafe.

I wish it was different. I wish I was whole. I wish I was sane. I wish I could face the world with strength, confidence, and enthusiasm, but I just plain can’t.

There is too much fear in me.

All I can do is try to make it through the day, I suppose. But that’s not enough for me. I can’t just turn off the rest of my human desires in order to “make a life” for myself.

Especially when my life has been so goddamned broken and incomplete.

I have never gotten the emotional nutrients I have needed and I still don’t.

I mean, here I am, brain the size of a planet, and all I do is play video games all day. Why? Because mental (and physical) illness has rendered me so fragile that I can’t even bring myself to look for work over the internet,  and my romantic prospects are less than nil because I never go out and meet new people.

And sometimes I feel like I am drowning at the bottom of a deep dark sea. I feel like there is the world of the good and the strong and the pure, and then there’s my pathetic world where the best that I can hope for is to live long enough to die in my sleep.

And I want more, dammit. Man can not live on video games alone. They help me pass the time and they keep my mind busy, but they are no substitute for love or a job.

It feels like I am locked out of the whole god damned world and I will never, ever become an actual adult and I am doomed to be 13 years old on the inside till the day I die. All the things that mark passage into adulthood have passed me by and right now, it’s hard for me to believe that I will ever catch up.

SO honestly, what’s the goddamned point? What do I have to look forward to? More years of pointless and meaningless survival?

Where am I going to be ten years from now? The exact same place? And what will I have to show for my time on Earth? The exact same nothing?

It’s not fair. I didn’t do anything to deserve this crap. I’ve always been a very nice person. I’ve made the best choices amongst the options available to me. I try really hard to extricate myself from this miasma but it never seems to do me any good.

I even got myself a huighly valuable diploma from VFS, but my mental illness was stronger. It bided its time and then stung me when my defences were down by convincing me to quite the Daily Uno job and then take “a few days off” before hunting for another job.

Well it’s been quite a few days more than a few days off and I have lost all momentum and I feel weak and scared and tired all the time and I am goddamned sick of it.

Maybe I should take a vacation of some sort. New surroundings might just stimulate me and help me open up inside instead of remaining in my canoptic jar all the time.

I long to bloom. But I have this cramp.

Admittedly, it would have to be a very cheap vacation. It’s not like I can book a cruise to Alaska or anything. I might be able to scrape the money together for a gfew nights at some Airbnb in a nice neighborhood and that would be about it.

But the point would be to get myself out of this dank and dismal dungeon and try to connect with life and find my place in it. Give myself a chance to find out who I am outside of my current context and maybe even tarpaper over all those big gaping holes in my soul so I can get on with my life.

That sort of thing is why I keep coming back to the idea of moving out on my own. Find some acceptable little bachelor suite near the Skytrain and get a cat and set everything up exactly how I want it and find some very good reason to get the hell out of the apartment every day.

The point would be to start over again with a clean slate so I can reinvent myself. I need to reboot my life and I can’t do that in my current context.

And just knowing that I was at least taking care of myself now instead of ignoring everyhing because “I can’t even” would do me a lot of good.

Somehow, in this life, I have to find a way to make a place for myself where I can find my niche and make myself useful.

But I am so damned scared all the time.

So I guess I am fucked.

And not in the good way.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.