well this is depressing. jeez.

Write for the sake of self expression, to escape this fucking prison that is depression….

This is fucking stupid
I have nothing to say, I’m over medicated, my room is clean, I’m lost….on planet earth. I’m awake and lost. I’m lazy.
I’m this
I’m that.
I’m not good at writing.
I work for a living, but I don’t focus on working towards escaping from having to be bogged down by monotonous calculations, bonuses which come once a year, angry phone calls about projects which will be long forgotten. Sure I’m happy. Wait I’m talking to myself, about myself. I need to see a shrink. I need to improve. It needs to happen soon cause time doesn’t seem to be slowing down for my broke fucking ass. Not necessarily broke, just misdirecting many feelings and emotions….not necessarily depressed, just comfortable with being unhappy…..happy about being comfortable, caught in a vicious self imposed circle…..on purpose for no purpose other than it’s all I know. I need a teacher and a mentor.