I don’t know. I’m not so far away from functionality that my brain is completely rotten; I could transition to a state of productivity. It’s just the depression standing in the way. If by depression you mean, “I’m just not interested in labor as much as in leisure, and I’m in a place in life where I’m comfortable and don’t have to work to find my way,” then yeah, depression.

It’s stupid. These labels can be so misapplied.

Maybe I’m NOT depressed. It’s really dumb. It’s just a label.

Windy outside apparently. The tree by my window is blowing.

It has red leaves.

I bought a couple front end web design books that shipped together, one on HTML and CSS and one on JavaScript and JQuery. They seem pretty light reads, they’re not very terse, lots of graphical illustrations, so I could probably make my way through them.

Or who knows, maybe it’s another sunk cost and I don’t read a damn page because of my laziness.

Do I have to find a lifestyle that’s more productive?

The inherent belief being that there’s something WRONG with the way I live. I consume, but don’t create. That that is WRONG.

I don’t know. I’m vegetarian, I keep car trips to a minimum. My consumption is not that huge. I don’t like, operate a coal power plant.

I’m not the Chinese government.

You know?

But at the same time I wish there was somewhere to go. Not just like, physically, but in life, in fate, in meaning. Progress. There’s no progress. There’s no This event then this event then this. There’s just… nothing.

I think I’m communicating my point for once. This whole situation, what it’s been for a while. Better than I normally do, at least.

My lungs / chest hurt when I cough. I don’t know why. Maybe the alcohol from a few days ago. That seems likely.

I miss running. Just out of glee, for no reason. Running to be a wild human, imagining just, on the plains, running, in a field, running…

But there’s nowhere to run. You have to fucking get in the car, drive fifteen minutes, and fucking like, make it a whole fucking plan just to RUN. We are, all of us, so desperately, desperately cut off from our wild drive, our naturalistic urges. It’s stifling. If major depressive disorder and anxiety disorder and panic disorder and all this shit all this fucking SHIT are rampant, it’s because of this. Society, the industrial revolution, fucked EVERYTHING over.

Fuck.

I peeled the dead skin, scratched it off really, underneath my beard, it gets all dead and flakey under there when I don’t shower or moisturize it ever. Which I don’t. These days. And for some reason it started bleeding, even though it was DEAD skin.

So now I’m bleeding underneath my beard.

Just a small spot but still unhygienic.

Issues.

I don’t brush my teeth anymore. It’s just. Not a habit. It’s hard. I don’t find the drive to do so. It’s supposed to just be this small daily thing. But I can’t do it.

What is wrong with my life. How did basic self-care turn into this gargantuan challenge. And regular people, the masses who don’t understand, how do they look at me. They would dump me by the side of the road sooner than give me a break.

I haven’t received a single disability paycheck yet. I filled out my form like a month ago.

I guess I should call them.

But fuck that, I don’t want to, and I have an excuse: I’m depressed.

These fuckers in the goverenment.

Useless shits.

God.

I want to go somewhere. But suggest somewhere for me to go, and I’ll instantly just imagine how irritated I would get if I went.

It’s so illogical. I don’t get it. Why?

Why is it like this?

I wish I had clean teeth. I don’t… fucking know.

These front end books look really sleek. Cover design is minimalist-chique. Pretty cool.

I wake up, I go on Twitch (watching, not streaming), and I go to sleep.

My life is over.

There’s nothing. There’s just nothing.

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