So I guess i'm writing this at home and at night because I feel sad. For some distinct yet allusive reason I feel as though I've been struggling to explain how I feel to people, but if I could, I would feel so much better. My mind wanders often and to places in my head that comfort me and play up who I think I am and its starting to become a real problem. A large majority of my days or spent within a haze of dysphoria where like i'm present and breathing and communicating but also withering away due to just how monotonous life can be. I envy those who can plow through a work day and go home without feeling like they've taken a Louisville slugger to the stomach. A part of me craves structure and improvement while another enjoys wasting time excessively without any remorse. feelings of close friends don't matter, just my happiness. I feel empty. I used to have depression till I realized how much of a waste of time it is, and although there is much I wish I could do, ...
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