Still standing in The Devil Beneath My Feet

Still standing and watching the first snow of the season fall outside, annoyed because I really need to clean my car out and I don’t wanna do it in the snow. Looking like I won’t have a choice, the flakes have gotten tiny so it’s gonna keep snowing for a while.

I’m hungry but nothing is appetizing in the slightest, so what else is new. Angrily telling my rumbling stomach to shut the fuck up and be thankful for tea.

I had a sex dream last night featuring the boyfriend and also König from MW2 because ya girl is a thirsty bitch what can I say lmao. I got choked which was nice but not nearly enough which was lame. Cant even let myself have nice things in dreams, goddamnit.

I fuckin stink, i need a shower but I’m gonna clean my car first and probably the kitchen. Get maximum sweaty stinky smelly first like the goblin I am.

I’ve been thinking about the thing you’re not supposed to think about a lot. Like a lot, a lot. Aside from the particularly dark days, like the last entry, I’m at a point where it again feels inevitable, but not immediate. Like it’s not happening tomorrow, or anytime soon. But it will, eventually. Like..that’s how it’s gonna happen. Which, to be fair, I always knew that. Since I was a kid - it sounds sadder than it is, relax - I’ve known that if I gotta go, I’m driving, goddamnit. That’s MY call, when I say I’m done, I’m done. I can’t help but wonder how I’m gonna do it someday, but knowing me it’ll be at least a little funny.

The thought process that makes the darker days darker than normal never really goes away but it does quiet the fuck down, mostly. It’s always there and it’s always pretty loud but sometimes, man, it’s like a siren just bouncing around my skull and I can’t think of anything else because it’s just so fucking LOUD.

Anyway work has me stretched thin, and the holidays are not taking any less of a toll on me than they normally do. “Seasonal depression,” yeah no shit, everyone is poor except for a literal handful of people - it’s pretty depressing when the people you love deserve their own private island and all you can afford to give them is a candle.

The search for a therapist continues, but I find the biggest obstacle in that is myself. SHOCKING.

Frankly, I don’t know how helpful a therapist would be - hopefully they would be, but I don’t know. There’s no way to know, and I’m not trying to waste my time or money. Not to mention every one I find is either virtual visits only or just…fails the vibe check, I dunno. I don’t wanna talk to some crunchy granola jackass that’s gonna tell me to try box breathing and yoga. But I don’t want medication either because I don’t wanna lose what little control I have left over my brain, like it’s fucked up and broken but I still know where all the pieces go, I feel like I can fix it, I just need glue, goddamnit. I don’t want some medication that’s gonna just throw a blanket over it.

It is what it is. I’m gonna try and draw something today, even though it doesn’t bring me the same happiness it used to.