Staring at the walls . . . or off into space. It's what I do best it seems. It's all I do anymore it seems.
Why?
Well, because I'm so empty. I'm not sure I've ever felt this empty. Seriously. I've felt more depressed, but not more empty. There is truly nothing there. I can't believe how devoid of emotion I am. I'm a robot, going through the motions. Trying to pass as normal. I laugh but there's nothing behind it. It's fake. Forced. I can't even cry because there's nothing there. There's no emotion.
I hate this. I can't stand it. I want to curl up in a ball and not exist. I'm trying so hard to stay positive but I'm getting worse.
I'm getting worse.
Three more days and I see Dr. M. I don't even know what to tell him. Well, I do, but I'm worried I won't get it out properly. I'm worried that I'll minimize what I'm going through. I'm worried that I won't get the help I need. I'm worried that he'll be so focused on ECT that he won't hear me. That last sentence is what scares me. I will not do ECT again. No. Not going to happen.
I feel like I have so much to write but I can't focus and get it out. My mind is blank and I fell like I'm beating a dead horse.
So yeah.
Why can't I be euphorically hypomanic? Just mildly. Come on brain, work with me here. We all know you do depression well. How 'bout some hypomania?
Fuck.
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