For some reason, I couldn't think up a title for this post. Nothing seemed appropriate. Nothing seemed interesting. Nothing interests me. Nothing is fun. Nothing is funny. I look forward to nothing. I look forward to sleep.
Yes, I am depressed. My therapist wants to put me on anti-depressants and will evaluate me in two weeks to see if I'm doing better by then. I'm supposed to be exercising to release some seratonin, but, of course, I DON'T FEEL LIKE IT.
My days have been bleak lately, adding to the gray skies that have been flying over Tallahassee. What I look forward to most during the day is getting home so I can check my mail. Yes, MY MAIL is the most exciting part of my day.
Thanksgiving. I left Tallahassee at about 2 p.m. Tuesday headed for Tampa. The five days were just a blur of sun and moon punctuated by five hours of slaving in the kitchen to make a turkey dinner (I was the adult this year!), one miserable hour of getting treated like crap by my parents at their L-O-V-E-L-Y home, a night in Ybor City dancing at a club called Czar with a hopping monkey and going to an all-the-meat-you-can-eat Brazilian restaurant with my brother, his wife and friends and my ex. I usually have a good time when I go to Tampa, but this time pretty much sucked. I don't know why. I think it's because I'm depressed. And broke. And because I only got one fucking piece of pumpkin pie on Turkey Day.