Tag: Diarium

testing the diarium app. i think it’s working fine. oh, i’ve turned the chromebook back into a chromebook. and installed diarium. yay.

It’s funny; I walked out of the restroom thinking, “I hate this place,” and then I look at my phone notifications, and Diarium gave me an “on this day” where I simply said “I hate this place” last year.

I started a WordPress entry this morning, but the server is being a bitch, so I saved that entry as a draft in my Gmail. Maybe I can publish it later? 🤷

Now I’m sitting at the table swiping away at this phone screen, thinking about how much I prefer the tactile touch of keypresses for writing things out. To me, there’s just no sense of realness or true defined intent or something in using the touch interface of a phone or tablet. It just feels like it’s somehow less genuine or almost fake.

My mind is trying to wander off into the ever-growing list of things that I need to do around the house. There just doesn’t seem to be enough time in the day, the week, etc. And then I switch off and think of how I could utilize my time better, by doing those things, rather than sitting here and writing.

I’ve about another 5-10 minutes available, before I need to head out the door.

I should just head out the door.

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.

Who the fuck wakes up one day and says, “I want hula hoops inside ear lobes”?

I wanna go home

I really don’t fully understand why I’m depressed.

I mean, I do.

But, I don’t.

Right now, at this moment, my depression is being fed by realizing that I go to work tomorrow, and then it’s another five days until I get to spend meaningful time with Ashlee. At least, I would hope it would be meaningful. And that’s not too so that we don’t spend meaningful time together throughout the week, when we’re together. I mean that it’ll be a week until we spend a larger amount of time together, instead of maybe an interrupted hour each day.