I always have this urge to write, but then when I sit down to actually do it, I just want to keep my thoughts to myself. I sit around, bored, going insane because there’s so much I want to say, but then I get here and I just…can’t say it anymore. I have this freaking depressing song stuck in my head that won’t go away and I have insomnia and I can never fall asleep until only a couple of hours before I have to wake up.
I have no idea what work is going to be like tomorrow. I’m only accustomed to working at Ponte Vedra on weekends–which, by the way, I am so glad I don’t have to do anymore. But I dislike it enough on weekends…god knows how it’ll feel during the week. I hope I won’t go insane. I hope I’ll be able to leave early. I’m going to ask if I can do what my mom does at her office–not take lunch at lunchtime, in order to be able to leave 45 minutes early and avoid as much traffic as possible. It takes me 45 minutes to get home from this office in weekend traffic when I leave at 4:00. I’m going to be leaving at 5:00, hopefully 4:15 if I can manage it, every day. Scary thought. I hate being so far from home all the time. I can remember driving places with my parents when I was little–places I’d never seen before, and where they’d never been before, and which were really far from home, and I’d get really freaked out, like somehow we’d be lost forever…what’s the word for that…agoraphobia? No, I think that’s fear of open spaces. I don’t know. I’m just weird.
I get really severely depressed sometimes. Like, not suicidal…I’m not that stupid anymore…but it’s bad. I don’t want to do anything, I can’t think of anything to do, I pace, I cry, I can’t sleep, I sit and stare at a blank TV screen or a closed book, sit in my car and don’t go anywhere, wanting to do something but then not doing it…what is wrong with me?? Sometimes I honestly think I really didn’t get over the depression that used to afflict me. Is it like alcoholism? Something you never completely get over, but you have occasional regressions? I feel like it makes me a weak person that it would afflict me at all. It should be something I can just say no to, I should just be able to get over it, if I were stronger, I wouldn’t have this problem. I cry all the time for no reason. I get these chest pains because–I think because–I slouch, and then subconsciously I’m thinking, ‘It’s my heart…my heart hurts’…but why!?
Okay, I suppose I’ll go lie in bed now and attempt to fall asleep.
I am choosing to put a different song in my head. I won’t even say what the other song was. I’m sorry, Beatles, I feel disloyal, but I just can’t take it right now.