Ho-Hum

I am not well. All week, I've been getting worse and worse. I'm depressed. I feel terrible guilt about virtually everything. I'm paralyzed by sloth and apathy. I'm becoming despondent. I don't want to pack, I don't want to write my application essays, I don't want to work on Atlas' (belated) Christmas card. These are all things that I absolutely. must. do. Instead I'm on the couch in Atlas' hand-me-down over-sized sweatshirt, eating icing out of the can, and watching How I Met Your Mother reruns. I just want to cry and pull the blankets over my head.

Atlas gave me a light box for Christmas. I forgot to use it today. It says "not for use in patients with bipolar disorder." I was never sold on the diagnosis anyway. But maybe it'll just make me even more cranky. And promiscuous. I guess we'll just wait and see...