OK. Fine.
I’m depressed. [I got distracted after I wrote that and wandered around the internet before remembering I was supposed to be writing something over here. Oops.]
Remember when I wrote that one thing about going off my meds? Well, I did and things were pretty much the way they had been and so whatever, right? Then I started damn NaNoWriMo and felt no urge to write anything over here…which you might have noticed.
That’s actually probably when things started to go downhill. Tons of self-doubt. Family things.
I watched a hell of a lot of Netflix–White Collar–and had numerous inappropriate thoughts about Matt Bomer [I have no regrets.] and read a lot of books.
A lot. Of books.
Bunches.
- Dark Storm
- Dark Nights
- Spell of the Highlander
- Into the Dreaming
- Gabriel’s Inferno
- Gabriel’s Rapture
- Beautiful Disaster
- Providence
- Requiem (The Providence Series #2)
- Eden (The Providence series #3)
- Faking It
- Getting Rid Of Bradley
- Anyone But You
-currently reading
What’s funny is I enjoyed all that stuff.
A lot.
The internet and writing and all the drama and bullshit didn’t interest me at all. Does that make me depressed? I still enjoyed something, right? If I’m depressed then I wouldn’t enjoy anything, right? I’m confusing myself.
Then again…
I guess it’s time to make an appointment with my psychologist, huh? Heather isn’t going to leave me alone until I do.
Before anyone asks and for the record and all that, I’m not suicidal. I’m not going to off myself. I’m not even going to run away.
I’m just
