Yesterday I was in a really, really bad depression. All I could do to stop the pain was sleep, and sometimes even then that pressurised container of lukewarm bulging hurt, normally known as my chest, managed to bleed over into my dreams. I'd wake up every so often, roll around in pain, trying to somehow get in a position where giants weren't stepping on my stomach*, but against the laws of physics, they always managed to do it. And do it. I mainly hobbled about the place, getting up to switch beds to see if that would help, or to collapse on the floor for a couple of seconds from the fatigue. Everything I tried to do to take my mind of things failed in a comical way; for a few seconds I'd think, I'm fine, nothing to worry about, it's just a SNAFU, then after that I'd be bombarded with regular pulses of agony in my stomach telling me that I was trapped and that I'd never get out and that it would be like this everyday for the rest of my life. It was on a lower level than telepathic, really, since I didn't actually hear any words. It just sort of felt that way, which is odd to say, because the human brain shouldn't work like that.
But in any case, I'm sort of alright now. Think I'm going to sleep as much as possible these days, just because it's my last line of defence, really. I don't even get 'tingles' from things anymore. I can just stare at a screen for ages scrolling down a pdf, feeling absolutely nothing despite something particularly interesting going on. So I've decided to just keep focussing on a couple of goals, which as I've said before, should hopefully cause me to fall asleep in no time. The qualms I have about upsetting my parents with all this sleep don't fall into the equation anymore, facing reality is just far too hard to NOT convert every cell of my body into a component of one giant dream-machine.
Why am I posting? Well, when I come home, I always like to be greeted by some novel post on our cosy little blogosphere. And so long as everyone else likes that, regardless of the quality of the post (within limits, I suppose), I think it'd be cool if I could supply that to other people. Though since I can't really ever follow through with anything (what's this? It's been mentioned a third time?), I doubt this'll last all that long.
*It's hard to explain to anyone who hasn't had depression why I always use physical descriptions of my pain. Mental pain very often can feel like it's physical pain, even though you can easily tell the difference when you are experiencing either.