Fuck this shit

I don’t have to go into lab until Wednesday. I don’t know.

I don’t know.

There is so much bad stuff in the world and I am so powerless to stop it.

How do I figure this out?

It’s a work day but from home, and I have no assigned tasks, so I’m kind of screwing around, which is relaxing, but also makes me feel like a lazy shit.

I don’t know. I want to be put on SSRIs. An SSRI, rather. But my psychiatrist, whom I meet with today this afternoon, will just say get off the kratom using the suboxone and wait like a month, then get back to me. He’s going to say exactly that. I don’t know why we’re even meeting.

And the pointlessness of me writing all this down. It doesn”t help me vent, it doesn’t help me understand it better. No one out there cares about me. My mother tries to empathize but I don’t feel a connection. Brother is so distant, lost in his own world. Father is a wacko. I mean he’s cool, but a wacko still. Baby brother lives on his own.

Family = no.

Nick, my only friend, doesn’t respond to like normal conversational emails or texts. He just doesn’t respond AT ALL. It’s only like, when I am in panic mode, that he offers to talk. At this point he’s almost as much my therapist as my therapist is. Which is not fair for him. I didn’t even ask him to do that. I just want to talk, and coincidentally it so happens that usually I want to talk about complain about my condition and problems.

Israel is still raping Palestine, and the “developed world” is too much of a pussy to stand up for justice. We’re weak. You’re all weak. No one is brave anymore. Governments are corrupt and fallible. Any human system is inherently broken. It will take robot overthrowing us to manage things better. We’ll be better off when robots are in charge. Seriously, I believe that.

Fuck. It’s not fair. I don’t know what life is like in palestine, even. I should read about it but reading is such a cognitively expensive task for me.

Well anyway I have labwork on Wednesday and then data analysis on Thursday.

My manager doesn’t trust me on the instruments yet. Nothing personal. I’m just not that experienced, I get it. She’s a cool chick. Kind of hot, actually. Not like insanely hot but some sex appeal to keep the meetings fresh. Asian, like tan skinned asian. Big jaw. Glasses, like my senior, who has been doing the training.

I don’t know how to progress and push this world forward. I want to make substantive changes. Why is everything so hard. I need a plan. I have to start making a difference. Donating is good, but I need to do it myself. That’s the only way you know something is done well–when you do it yourself.

I don’t want to stop writing here because, I sense it approaching, the moment I do, the depression, mild depression mind you, but nonetheless. will wrap around me. It’s not pleasant and mostly it just makes me so nonfunctional it hurts. It hurts in its own right, I mean. But the both factors.

I don’t even want to forget about what I’m seeing about the world at broad anymore. Before I would have just retreated to my own world and gone about my business. That no longer seems to be enough. But maybe it is? Maybe simply staying functional and happy is all it takes to win the war against evil in the world? I don’t know. I don’t think anyone can answer this question for me. I mean there are probably people who could provide input, but I’M never getting it. Not with my social circle dry as the desert.

What can I say. My book of poetry is out. That’s nice. I’m not even proud because the style of poems are so natural to me that it’s not even hard work. It’s not that amazing. I like the style I mean, searching for meaning in gibberish. But maybe it’s silly. I don’t know, is what I’m saying.

I feel like someone–dont’ change your mind–out there is listening to me, closely. Reads what I write. But who knows. I don’t really pay attention to my stats. I don’t have like a recurring visitor from the same country every day, I don’t think. I haven’t really paid attention to it. Maybe I do. They don’t tell you peoples’ IP addresses.

Oh what’s this? 2 new prescriptions from my doctor? Hmm, probably for my sore throat, from my doctor. Which I keep wanting to spell “soar throat”. Soar like a bird, neh? Funny.

I don’t want to see my therapist’s responses to my crazy two previous messages I sent him. Ugh. I let loose really I do with him. It’s not, I don’t know, maybe I shouldn’t? I don’t really know.

I’m tired. More later.

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