Easier to Sleep.
I’m not much for personal stories. Keeping concepts vague has always worked for me and, if I really need to get into greater detail, there’s always a better way to do that than to, say, write it in an obscure blog I keep for venting purposes.
But it isn’t like I haven’t been dealing with obscurity for years. The words I want to hear aren’t being said. The life I want to live isn’t being lived. There are pockets of clarity, merciful few, where the only thing I can conceptualize is how miserable I am.
Depression memes, but less funny.
I think I need to get back into therapy.