This morning I had a good friend graciously point out that in my last post I am being a whiny bitch, that this a public blog anyone can read so I shouldn't be talking shit or complaining about how my remarkably fortunate lifestyle isn't quite total nirvana.
Of course she's right. And I apologize to the other 3 people reading this blog. My life is unequivocally better than 99.999% of the world. It's really unfair just how good I have it.
Writing for me is cathartic, a kind of therapy, but I'm not sure its really intelligent to post my therapy sessions on the internet. Especially when I want to talk about people who may or may not end up reading this eventually. I have to figure out the best way to navigate these kinds of issues. A private journal maybe. Meh, fuck it.
I'm 2 doses into my anti-depressants and I can feel the re-calibration occurring in my head. My appetite is completely shot, I feel a bit queasy and really really spacey, like I haven't slept in days (Even I slept over 12 hours last night). I keep catching myself staring into space for indeterminable amounts of time or forgetting why I'm in a room or not being able to find the right word thingy that I need for my sentences. I hate it. But not really, because I can't find an emotion strong enough to be called 'hate'. My head feels like I have a minor hang-over but I don't feel any anxiety, I kinda just don't care. About anything. I don't know, its kind of nice. I feel like this must be what being stupid must feel like.
Did anyone just read that last sentence? 4 different words twice used in a 12 word sentence. I can't even tell if it makes sense. Am I going to be ok publishing this trash? I don't know, I'll guess I'll give it a few more days