june 25 in twenty-eight

I don't like to think that I'm depressed. But maybe I am. I don't want to get out of bed. The thought of having to do it makes me queasy and panicked. I hate leaving the house and would be perfectly happy to never have to. Even my job, which I used to love, stresses me out. I don't have any desire to do anything at all. And the worst part is that other than the money aspect, I would be perfectly happy with that life.

So what is wrong with me? This has hit me pretty suddenly, and hard.