Love letter to nobody

Hold up a sec. Let's think about this realistically.

• I'm very cold (my hands have been freezing all day) but I haven't made any effort to warm myself up.
• All my writing practices in the past few days have been about struggling under some form of madness or oppression.
• It takes a genuine effort to smile, and even then my face feels strange.
• People keep asking me if I'm okay.
• I've been told I'm eating less and less lately.
• I've not only been slacking off work, I've been slacking off play.
• I feel as though I want to laugh insanely, strangle everyone around me, or burst into tears, but I don't.
• I'm tired, not physically tired but a deep, soul-crushing tiredness.
• More than once I've thought of slicing my palms open or otherwise injuring myself. I can't guarantee I'm not going to.
• I have moments of complete, all-consuming hatred.
• Even when I get the chance to talk to my love I do nothing but bitch at her.
• I've been talking to people a lot less in general.
• I've been blogging a lot more, mostly just putting myself down.
• When I wondered if I was depressed, the response was that I'd better not be because I only complain and drag everyone else down with me.

I think I might be depressed.

I could sit here and wonder what do do with myself now I'm depressed, but since I'll only have depressed thoughts that wouldn't do any good. I could find someone to talk to about my being depressed, but I imagine this would only dampen their day. There's not much point talking to anyone anyway, since I don't make any effort to stop being depressed and end up feeling worse because I think I'm bothering them even when I'm not. Mostly am, though. I constantly get the feeling people are wishing I'd stop being so depressed and just talk normally, as though it's my fault that I feel this way and I could stop anytime I wanted.

I mean, yeah, of course it's my fault. I have no reason to be depressed. The disorders, the paranoia, the oppression, stuff like that, there's no reason that should bother me at all. Yeah.

I'll tell myself to shut up, but I doubt I will. I'll just continue to act like a leech, draining the life out of anyone with the sympathy to put up with my complaining. If I really cared about these people I wouldn't even mention it here. Stupid selfish bastard, me.

Easy. Less than two months to go.