So, depression. It's here. It's situational AND biochemical. And it sucks. I'm not even motivated enough to self-harm or contemplate worse. I sleep a lot, and it's not to escape. It's because I can't think of anything else I'd rather do. I have no passion for anything right now. I've got ideas. I've even written outlines. But I can't take the last step to actual writing. I forced myself to take a shower today and it was the most difficult thing I've done in a long time. Every step was. An. Effort. The weather's been gorgeous and the idea of going outside makes me twitch.
So, yeah. I go to my usual therapy tomorrow, and I've got a "Crap, I need to see you ASAP" call into my psychiatrist.
I just want to care about something again, to have that creative fire burn again. Or, you know, not turn into a vampire. That'd be cool, too.