1. Binge-watch TV. Today it’s been Bojack Horseman. Yesterday it was Scrubs. Maybe tomorrow it’ll be Game of Thrones. (It won’t be. There are too many characters in that show and I could just never get on board.)
2. Incessantly ask if people are mad at me. And I just assume that they are because I’m a 20-something who is depressed for no fucking reason and complaining about depression when you’re sitting in an apartment with a balcony and a ton of luxury makeup in the bathroom is just so annoying and terrible.
3. Or ignore people completely. And resent them for talking to me at all while wishing they would just let me wallow in peace until I don’t feel crazy and low anymore.
4. Stalk Instagram accounts of people who I think should be more fucked up than me but aren’t. I’ll get to photos from a month ago where they’re on beautiful vacation and look desperately in love and happy and it just makes me remember how constantly empty I am as a human being.
5. Write. And it all comes out rambling and messy and jumbled and I worry about people reading it and worrying about me and then texting me and I won’t answer and look at that! Another vicious cycle.
6. Hate everything that I write. Like this!
7. Feel so depressed that I can’t write anything worth reading. Like this!
8. Wash my sheets. I’ll become paranoid about things like bed bugs and diseases on my pillowcases and I’ll also figure hey if I’m just laying around the house being a piece of shit I might as well be productive. Right?
9. Lose any motivation whatsoever to put the sheets back onto my bed. Productivity has its limits I guess.
10. Peel the enamel off of my nails. And rip my cuticles to shreds. And then rip off my split ends, fuck with my pores, and dig out ingrown hairs until everything is irritated, bloody, and I still don’t feel anything.
11. Try to envision what would happen if I went to the hospital and told them, “Hey I think about not waking up an awful lot.” But I won’t go because like, ER bills are expensive.
12. Formulate 450 word text manifestos that I ultimately end up deleting. Usually to people I’ve at one time or another tried to use as a bandaid for my own problems. But I never, never send them.
13. Tweet hysterical things like “emotional breakdowns are the new black” in an attempt to make my ambivalence more palatable. Look how quirky I am!!!
14. Wonder if I’d be happier bartending. If things were simpler and I didn’t have to worry about what it’s like when you theoretically have the dream and think, “Now what?” all the time.
15. Decide, probably not. That much access to alcohol cannot end well.
16. Count down the days until I wake up and feel something close to okay. Hopefully it’s tomorrow.