Called in sick today because I was unable to sleep last night and couldn't get out of bed this morning. I'm too embarrassed to say I'm depressed and a basket case so just said that I had gastro. Better that people think I'm simultaneously vomiting up my spleen and jetting toxic waste out my arse than there's something wrong with my brain.
I'm pretty slow on the uptake so I'm only just beginning to understand this is what my life is like now and probably for the foreseeable future. I have good days and bad days. On the good days it seems ridiculous that I could let something as transient as 'the way I feel' affect what I do so fundamentally. On the bad days I forget that there's any light or joy in the universe and the thought of human interaction is terrifying.
Sometimes those days can happen in the course of a single day. Several times.
This evening I have to go to the gym then travel across town to go to a friend's gallery opening. The thought of either of those things fills me with stomach-lurching horror. I would literally prefer to carve banshee wails into my own flesh than leave my apartment. I've never been into self-harm but if I thought there was any way that cutting myself would help I'd be up to my elbow in a fucking food processor.
Fuck. I have to go.
Kill me.
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