I'm not a Scientologist, though I do find them highly entertaining. So please don't mistake me for one when I ask you this question:
Where does laziness end and depression begin?
This question has been on my mind for a while. After talking to a friend about depression the other night, I began to seriously consider that maybe I've been more than just lazy these last few months. I have to tell you, the suggestion that maybe I'm not just a slacker was enough to make me want to cry. Out of relief.
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This is where you can check out of the post, if you haven't already, as I'm honestly using my own damn blog for my own damn personal journal today. Feel free to eavesdrop, though. You are more than welcome. I just really need to work this out in my head and I do better if I can see it written in front of me.
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I'm happy, in a butter knife kind of way. I used to be happy in a samurai sword kind of way. I want that back, but I can't for the life of me figure out how to do it. Not on my own. Not without help.
The other day, Maguire said, "You've been smiling more lately." Ouch. That's not good. Smiling is good, no? But not smiling so much that a smile revival is remarkable, well, that's not so good. Ironically, it is the fact that I've been feeling a little better that has highlighted the fact that I haven't been feeling like myself for months now. Something like eleven months.
Welcome to the world, baby boy... your mother is going to check out now. Be back in 5.
Writer. Mother.
