What is depression again? Is this it? Do I go ahead, act with bravery, and call out my life as failed and very off balance? Do I admit defeat? Do I seek help? Do I look myself in the mirror and truly question, "So what the FUCK are you doing? What the FUCK are you going to do about this life of yours," or do I stay strong shrug it all off and just say I can do this alone - fuck your weaknesses?
Last night: 430am finally finish purging. Wash face. Drink laxative tea. Down 2 cap fulls of (the ever potent) liquid Tylenol PM (which in turn knocks me on my ass). Brush teeth. Put on eye mask.
Today: Roll over (still very groggy) at 1030am. Go back to sleep. Roll out of bed at 100pm. Pull on swimsuit. Lay outside in the sun for a while. Sleep in the sun.
So that much sleep is pushing it, right? Sleep is good - but too much sleep is putting off your life. Because you don't feel like figuring out a new fucking road mad. Because the road your on now isn't fabulous and fantastic, it a little too late to believe this is the dream you're living.
Have you ever "found sleep such a blanketing drug that nothing - not food, or a bellyfull of pee, not the glaring California sun scalding my face - could rouse me,"? My answer is both yes and no ... sleep it a'int the answer and eventually I did get myself up and even get to the gym for 2 hours. And picked up the dry cleaning. Read 284 pages of the massive VOGUE I’ve yet to tackle and thus far no b/p. It’s not like I’m proud and it sure ain’t like I’m happy. More than anything I’m just starving. But, when my answer to not knowing where the fuck to begin and what the fuck to do with my life right now is sleep then that has got to be depression. Because when I'm asleep I don't have to question what is going on here.