Every couple of months or so, I get furiously depressed. It's a strange period of time where I'm absurdly anxious and find that I can barely hold up my end of a simple conversation without freaking out enormously over what I'm saying (or not saying.) Menial tasks become monstrous undertakings, and beneath my entire day creeps the notion that I am a walking failure.

This used to happen a lot in college.

Perhaps its a type of static electricity that's generated when expectations rub against reality. For a brief period of time today I managed to calm myself down by saying aloud "Nobody is expecting anything from me." At this moment now, however--in this coffee shop--with a shitty remix of 'Smells Like Teen Spirit' playing--with my heart going like a minigun in an action movie--I am vastly, supremely, unhappy.

My routine is: get up, water the lawn, feed the dog, feed the self, shower, go to rehearsal, say very little, go get coffee, watch Dr.Who, walk home, write, game, feed the dog again, eat dinner, fall asleep watching Samurai Champloo. There's nothing inherently psyche-crushing about this...but I cannot, for the life of me, escape that feeling.

Love just sounds fucking asinine to me (and believe me, I definitely tried to force it.)

BWARAHGLGHAHLGHAHAHAHAHHL.

I'm tiring myself with these complaints. Thanks for listening, though. I think the reality is I've just been feeling really lonely recently. I'm not generally one to be on my own side. I have trouble having my own back. I have a huge, fragile ego a lot of the time...so underneath whatever confidence I exude, there's usually a sinister voice--my OWN voice--whispering in my ear that I am absolute crap. That I have no idea what I'm doing, and that I've already failed years ago.

Again--expectation.

BUH. Can I please dig a hole and live in it for a while?

Or...y'know...get laid? That'd be cool, too. It's been several months after all.

Retardedly,
Dak