Saturday, October 13, 2001

What a lost day. What a lost day indeed.

Didn't get enough of the stuff I needed to get done, done. Surprise? Not really. I'm a loser baby, so why don't you kill me.

I hate this whole escapism thing so much about me. And it's so damn hard for me to talk about it, because I find it so embarrassing. Yes. Dr.K can't help me if I don't tell him stuff -and hey, that's what my insurance company pays him for- to listen to my problems and help me sort them out, but this runs way too deep for me to talk about it yet. Yet - hey, in a year of therapy, I should have learned to open up. But still.

I still feel like I am standing still and not developing at all. I still feel personality less. I feel life less. My avoidance of certain types of people has worsened. My locking up is worse than a year ago, too. My being anti-social is, too. And I still don't see a light at the end of the tunnel, really, still don't have some sort of perspective - I still can't paint a mental picture of something that would make me happy, at one point in the future. I still feel that I was far more grown up at 16 than I am now. I bash myself for each and everything. I hate myself.

I sometimes feel like I have so little to live for, so little that's enjoyable. Who would miss me if I were gone?

This is all so teenage. So sickening. So very sickening.

All these thoughts, taken together, make me feel like the whiniest, most horrible person in the whole wide world. Narcisstic, self-absorbed, childish, boring, basking in the perils of her depression, not trying hard enough to start anew and be productive.
I feel like I have no right to be this way. Nothing horrible happened to me. I wasn't abused, no one close to me died, nothing evil happened to me, really. Some small things, maybe, some things gone wrong family wise, some things gone wrong with partners, but really: Nothing that would matter in the grand scheme of things, nothing that would justify my whining. But still: I feel like shit. And what makes things worse: I feel like I have no right to feel like shit.

Would some Prozac/Zoloft/Wellbutrin help?

Who knows. I am almost close to giving that a try again - just like every few weeks anyway. Would things be easier then? Would I be able to handle things better?

Hand me the loony pills.

And what can I do to get out of this, out of this flat, out of these feelings? I feel stuck. - But the prospect of actively changing this situation scares me, too. I just do not want to face some things, some people. I want to be invisible, and substract me out of the grand equation.

Oh well, I feel like I am already substracted anyway. I am not here. This isn't me. This ain't happening.