In bed. Out of bed to make peanut butter and jam sandwiches. Or grab peanuts. Haven't taken meds in a few days, can't really remember. In bed most of the day.
What can I say? I'm depressed again.
I was stupid to get my hopes up about anything more. About getting what I want, about things going back to the way they were, and of thinking my momentary bouts of happiness could last. I hate my life. And I hate the peanut crumbs stuck in my teeth because I've just been eating peanuts.
I am depressed. I am depressed. There is no one to help me. No one is going to call me. No one is going to take me out. No one is going to care. The people who know are living their own lives and just don't care that much. The people who don't know are doing the same. I don't know why I'm supposed to live a life so alone, so uncared about and so empty, painful, long, weary.