Life, the Universe and the Melancholic

This week started not so well. To be honest I haven't been feeling right for almost 2 weeks. But I think I've just been going through the motions, pretending I was okay. Distracting myself and trying to ignore my increasing anxiety. The feeling like I'm being split into two different dimensions. It's hard to explain. By Monday this week I crashed into an emotional, anxiety heap. Impending panic and doom, and feeling like my internal motor was idling too high and I couldn't calm down. Some of it I have put down to the weird inbetween time from Christmas to New Year and then to when school continues back. Also, my eating habits have been complete and utter rubbish, which is something I know I need to be mindful of. So crash, bang, boom. My partner wrapped me in a bed burrito and fed me valium. I felt a little okay Monday night, but still not like myself. Thankfully I had an appointment with my psychiatrist on Tuesday. I pushed myself to get in the car and drive to the...

I started writing thoughts. To get them out of my head. I'm looking for reassurance and validation. Connection. But does anyone care to read my words and thoughts? I feel like I clutter up the space in the lives of my friends. Befriending another's existence. Finding value and worth in their intrinsic essence, in absence of things they do, but just how they be or are. How does one measure that? Is there a barometer? Is it just biochemistry? In my usual self enquiry mode. In making sense of the self, perhaps it will make sense of the world. I ask friends questions in order to get a sense of my own self, as I haven't particularly had a good grasp of that for a while. Perhaps their perception of my intrinsic essence will help construct a sense of self. I'm probably full of shit and patting me on the head and telling me "just because" will suffice. At the very least it's a familiar theme of my experience. I'm probably not making any sense. It's why I w...