This depressive funk is killing me. I would almost want to be medicated. I can’t seem to get out of it. And though these words don’t show it, I’m singing all this in my head as I’m typing it out. I fucking hate my weird assed mind and sometimes wish I would die.
Ugh. Okay. Stop singing.
I hate this place. I wish I could find a better job. Damnit. Started singing again. I dunno. Maybe that’s a good sign. Maybe I am about to go manic again. Didn’t last long last time. Like two days.
I really need to get over this funk. Been smoking heavier, which has been giving me migraines and, of course, making it a lot more fun to breathe.
Only about 45 more minutes of this BS.
Then I go home, see my Ashlee, get happy for a little bit, watch her leave, and spiral back into my pit of despair. Yay.