I used to be pretty driven. I could, uh, do things, and drive for a better future, even if no such future could ever possibly exist (which is most of the time, if we're being honest). I can't do anything now. Writing this is a horrible struggle that I do because I just have an inkling I'll regret not doing it. I can't convince myself to do anything at all, and the that prodding-me-with-a-pitchfork anxiety is no longer there to force me to do things. The last two days I spent sleeping entirely, with only a few hours reading things on the internet. This is not by choice - my depression is not that bad*, I am simply (a extremely tired and (b utterly and entirely unmotivated to do anything. Or at least, I may have the desire to do certain things, but no motivating emotions are present. There's nothing there. So I'm sorry if I haven't posted for a while, it's simply because I have no drive left to do anything - and besides that, even if I did have the necessary motivation to flagellate myself into blogging, I would be crippled by the fact that my depression has clouded my brain and made me a way shittier writer.
But I'm alright overall. My life at the moment is probably better for me than for you, in that, you won't be seeing even dog testicle quality posts here for a while, if you're into bad quality posting that is. Or I could be wrong. Often saying this I run into the great Fuck You estnihil universal law, wherein the universe decides to make my life as hilarious as possible. I say I'll do this, I'll do that. It can't possibly get worse? It can. They like me? They really like me? Nope.
Writing more would be taking a nice long piss straight down your oesophagus, so I won't for now. Not until I actually have some idea of what I'm going to write that would actually contribute something. Goodbye for now.
*Not that bad for me. I still think about dying a lot, but most of the time I can just get through the school day in a haze, letting my subconscious mind take over.