The good news is that I am all out of legit sleepiness. I’ve caught up with my sleep debt, more or less, and so that, at least, is over with.
The bad news is that I still feel like sleeping because I am depressed and don’t want to have to deal with reality like, at all.
Sleep is death without the commitment, after all.
I dunno. Maybe this is just the sleepiness finally manifesting as depression despite all my struggling to make sure that did not happen.
But right now, I feel very blah. Nothing interests me. Everything hurts. I have the strong urge to bury myself somewhere deep and dark and cool and just hide from the world.
I won’t, of course. I will probably end up just semi-mindlessly playing Fallout 4 all afternoon and on into the night.
At least it will keep me distracted from my depression. Like I have said many times before, when I am playing a video game, I am not depressed. I don’t hate myself. I am not anxious or scared or confused.
My mind is too busy for any of that shit.
It’s not exactly happiness, but it’s better than being miserable.
Or so I have always assumed. Maybe I would be better off in the long run if I just let the depression happen and run its course like a fever.
Maybe resistance is futile and I would be a happier person if I just accepted that I will be depressed some of the time and it’s no big deal.
But no, no matter what, I don’t break down. I keep going instead, albeit at a very low level. But no matter how slow I go, I never stop.
Maybe I would be better off if I did break down. Stop forcing myself forward by sheer force of will and let myself fall apart completely.
Maybe then I could reset, refresh, renew, and restart fresh and new.
But the idea scares me terribly. It feels like if I was ever to stop completely, something terrible would happen. I would be trapped, somehow.
I have never been the sort of depressive who ends up having a total breakdown and spending three days in bed crying and miserable.
I’ve always felt lucky that way. But maybe there is wisdom in breakdowns. Maybe my “forever forward” attitude is not the healthy way to go. Maybe I could use some time crying in bed.
It sounds so damned boring, though. I am used to a rich diet of mental stimulation provided through this here computer of mine. If I cut myself off from that, who knows what might come crawling out of the primordial goop of my mind.
Probably something really gross, truth be told. Something diseased and fetid and broken and twisted and covered in goop.
But something that also needs love, despite its grossness.
I love you, Ugly Goo Baby. It’s not your fault you are so gross and ugly. You wouldn’t be that way if I took better care of you.
Now let’s go get something to eat.
Ugly Goo Baby. Got to remember that one.
So I am back. Got Tandoori King Cafe food on the way. My usual Lamb Rogan Josh. That’s lamb in a creamy curry. So damn good.
Plus some samosas, because their samosas are SO GOOD.
Still fairly sleepy. I was able to stay up long enough to play Fallout 4 for a while before switching over to “blogging and waiting for food” mode. So that’s a kind of accomplishment, or at least, a kind of progress.
Skip the Dishes says the order will be here in 24 minutes. So that’s the time to beat. When I order in like this, I always try to get my blogging done before the food arrives.
Not that it means much. Arguably, I would be better off ordering, then continuing to play video games until it arrives. Then I could eat and blog at the same time.
But meh. I would rather do it this way. This way I have a fun little challenge. Get the blogging done before the food arrives.
That way, I can eat and chat with the fuzzies and book face with Facebook and watch my Reddit thread videos and all that jazz.
In other words, another Saturday night chez moi.
Some day, life in the fast lane is going to catch up to me and I will end up in rehab.
Until then, I’m living large and loving it!
Still don’t know how to handle the reality of my own genius.
The gap between my low self esteem and my high level of ability is just too large. And it’s just too easy for my depression to simply disregard my abilities as being nothing more than something to make my like of life mobility more cruelly ironic.
Here I am, brain the size of a planet, and all that.
I wish I was at least healthy enough to view it as a tragedy and/or a misfortune. Such a waste of potential, think of what he could be contributing, he deserves better than this, and so forth and so on.
But that is just too hard for me right now. To view this all as a tragic injustice would require a level of commitment and activation that I can’t manage at this time.
Because if it’s all a crime, then I would have to do something to stop it. That’s a fundamental part of my nature. I can’t let injustice slide. I have to do something.
And while, in theory, that sounds like a great attitude to take towards my own recovery, in practice it involves so much energy that I can’t help but imagine it ending in confusion and depression and anxiety when I run out gas on my own behalf.
Or maybe I am just plain too chicken shit to stand up for myself when there is no immediately identifiable external threat to deal with.
Maybe I am just not fit to go it alone.
Maybe this superhero needs a sidekick.
Damned if I know where to find one, though.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.