I am weary, let me rest...

[eternaleponine]

The last few days have consisted of moments of being okay, but mostly of stretches of depression interspersed with low-level, unshakable anxiety. It's gotten to the point where I don't want to say anything to anyone, because I'm sure it will come out wrong, or I'll be rejected or that people will hate me or whatever. It's my own screwed up brain, but there's not really a whole lot I can do about it.

I can't even really pinpoint a cause, if there is one. There are things I can point to and say, "I'm unhappy about this," but then I have to question whether it is what is making me unhappy, or if being generally down is making what ought to be relatively minor seem worse than it is.

I want to be able to just lose myself in something, but there's nothing I actually want to do, or the things that I want to do I don't have the brainpower for, or... I don't even know. It's all a mess. I have library books that I need to finish reading because I don't think I can renew them again but I can't focus on them. I borrowed movies from someone and I really don't care about watching them. I have a novel I could be writing, but I just look at it and wonder why I bother?

I don't have any intention of ever trying to publish it. No one is ever going to read it, really, except maybe one or two people. Mostly I'm writing it because if I don't do something with my time, my brain will completely atrophy, because I swear my job makes me stupider every day.

Which is another depression chicken-and-egg situation. Shit is changing at work again, for the worse because nothing ever, ever changes for the better there. But am I so fucking upset about the changes because they're actually that bad in and of themselves, or am I upset about them just because I hate my job. It got so bad the other weekend that I actually told one of the managers, when she asked me how I was, "Well, I'm here, and this place sucks."

I don't know. This is all just pointless whining, and writing it down doesn't actually make it any better. The only way things are ever going to change is if I change them, and I have my doubts that the apathy and inertia that have defined my life for the last... six? seven? years is going to magically disappear overnight.