I declined over the course of the day into a truly foul funk that I don't dare inflict on anyone. Even though I really needed S. to drive me to the DVD store, I backed out, because when I called to cancel, in one room of my mind I began to waffle, and as I was waffling, from another room I began screaming at myself: are you fucking insane? you can't even form complex sentences! for god's sake, pull the sheet over yourself and hide your monstrous aspect from the world!
It's a very physical sense of depression. It's full metal zombie mode, when I literally can't move my facial muscles, and the ache in my throat is burrowing upwards, trying to surface like a mole from my mouth, and the rest of me from chest to eyelids wants to weep, and everything seems hopeless. I've been sapping my own trenches to bring this on. It's my own fault, letting my erratic nature take sway. It's like one little nudge and it all begins to crumble or topple, a domino chain heading for full collapse. Not taking my meds as regularly as I should, cutting the exercise, picking up the bottle again. There are periods when I have such hope for myself, such certainty, and then time spins me around and all of a sudden I'm hunched in my room, alone, in tears, paralyzed except for the occasional burst of words.