Bloodfeathers Retrospect

The snow was beautiful today. Just as well, because nothing else was.
Last night I made an official visit to the infamous 4chan, just to see. After browsing and finding new and exciting ways to make pieces of my soul shrivel up and die, I've vowed never to touch that infernal place again. I did not sleep well.
Today I woke up too late, feeling unwell and unrested. Breakfast had far too much paper stuck to it. Traffic was endless and infuriating. The visit to the good doctor was uncomfortable and pointless. School was depressing. Anthro was a discussion of Scientology, money and energy flow. Bio was a disastrous plant lab with a whiny, alleged perfectionist partner. During lunch I watched my friends laughing and hugging while I stood by, head bowed. It sometimes really bothers me when they get physical. It's not as if they don't know how I feel. I wanted to lash out, push them down the stairs, scream. I went walking out side, crushing the perfect snow in my palms. Math, forced group work. I ignored the other three for the most part and was the only one who did anything decently productive, though I did have trouble concentrating. It's so difficult to concentrate lately. Lit was bearable, thankfully. Outside. I'm half-convinced Tasha was glaring at me. Long, lonely bus ride home.
I feel awful. Sick to my stomach, almost, halfway between the kind you get when important work is overdue and the one when unexpectedly viewing an unnecessarily graphic image of torn-up human bodies or a disgusting sex act. There probably isn't a word for that. (If there is I'll be very impressed.) I feel exhausted, not the 3-hour-sleep tiredness I sometimes get but the long-awaited average-6-hours-sleep-for-the-past-three-weeks tiredness that echoes inside your skull. I have a headache that feels like a large spike being carefully positioned, driven into my head with some force, then withdrawn and repositioned somewhere else. Tastes in my mouth range from blood to onions(?). There's a fog that keeps me from thinking clearly. A blanket over my limbs. I want to cry, scream, break down and die, fall asleep in a nest of bones. This is bad.
"No!" screamed a little voice in my head. "You can't break down now. People need you. Everyone is stressed and tired. They need a helping hand, a good word in the right place, a friend to keep them going. They're worried about you, and that's one more worry they shouldn't have. What about Danica? You know she's been depressed lately. She needs a strong Alex now, not another needy face to drag her down. Do you want to put that extra strain on your relationship? Do you- urk!"
"Got you, fucker!" I screamed into the face of the squirming Doubt as my hand clenched tighter around its spindly neck. "Do you know the hell I've been through because of you?! I can't feel anything any more!" In maddening, wonderful rage I swung the creature against the nearest wall. Of course it passed straight through and I scratched up my fist, but for the first time in a long time I began to feel better.
"What are you going to do to me?" stammered the Doubt, pawing at my hand with rubbery fingers.
"I don't know," I said. "What am I going to do with you?" I sat down to think. But while I was thinking it slipped from my grasp and bounded off into the darkness. In frustration I threw the chair after it. It hit something, but I haven't found the motivation to go and see what.