I’m having a weird time. There are a lot of things that feel… downright unfamiliar? Which doesn’t make much sense, I realize. The past year, maybe two, of my life has/have consisted of one step forward, and some inordinate number of steps back.

Perhaps my needs are significantly met … what reason do I have to complain about my life? Shit, I have a full time job where I don’t feel totally stifled all the time. I’m graduating from a good university in a few short months. I can pay all of my bills on time, feed myself, and put gas in my car. I have a beautiful cat (currently purring at my side) and a few great friends. How can I have all of this and still be so fucking miserable all the time? I know how terrible I am. I have health insurance on which I don’t even have a copay for the antidepressant I take which I’m fairly certain doesn’t do a speck of difference anymore. I’m so acutely aware of how ludicrous my own negative feelings are that I’m constantly just… angry at myself. Who am I to bitch about anything, honestly. Yet here I sit. Sad, lonely, angry, in pain.