Again with this life

I went to bed at midnight last night and got up at 3 pm today. It took every ounce of willpower I had just to get out of bed.

Two hours and some chinese food later -- plus an increased dose of Ritalin -- I'm feeling a little bit less like the walking dead, but still pretty awful. Every breath I take is like a fishhook tugging at my soul, very painful. The occasional tiny glimmers of hope and energy that break through only make the overall state worse by comparison.

Off to internet surf a while, then back to laying audition flats on Marvel Masterworks.

Fear

I hate being this crippled with fear. I hate wanting to die, and knowing that unless the distress level suddenly ramps sharply, I'll almost certainly resist the impulse to commit suicide. I really wish I could -- to escape this grinding intolerable feeling of despair and uncertainty.

I'm tempted to just stop my medications and let nature, and the depression, take its course.

But I'll go on living. God damn it.