I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Nothing entertains me. Nevermind that I can’t sit still, or that it’s hard to focus. But I just don’t… find joy in anything. Life has no meaning. I love my family, or I say I do, I think I do, but do I? And I have no friends, so there’s no worries there, right? It makes it nice and simple.
Just a handful of people to think about.
I’m not sure. I wish life were meaningful. I’m still holding out for the psychiatrist’s lamotrigine for me. It’s kind of a niche depression drug, but it might help. We’ll see.
I’m so lonely. I can’t even think straight I’m so lonely. It’s not even solitude. It’s just loneliness. I’ve never been this pathetic before. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I used to be such a strong person. I guess I always had place and activity for myself, and now I kind of, it’s flexible, so there’s less. So that makes me feel like shit.
Life’s difficult. Life’s really difficult. I don’t know if it’s supposed to be this way. I even exercise. And it’s still difficult. Probably not enough. I should be jogging. Yeah. Not enough.
I don’t know what to say, everyone. I’m sorry. I’m not going anywhere. I’m just sorry.