This is a book I turn to whenever I feel like this. "DRY" by Augusten Burroughs. Not only is it a great read, but it is also a source of hope when I begin to doubt myself.
Time and space don't really coexist for me right now. Nothing really feels real to me anymore. I'm just physically here, and emotionally unattached. Removed from reality. Almost like my mind has disjointed itself from my head. I feel separated from a lot of the people I thought cared for me. The people who had my back, and kept pushing me to go on. I've become more tolerable. Sure, that is a good thing, but sometimes being tolerable is relevant to being boring, and I used to never be boring. While my friends are all out getting wasted on weekends, I'm at home writing little entries like this.
Sometimes I really don't fucking like this self.
200 on Friday.
mkp.
