This Is My Life

I woke up this morning feeling angry with the world, highly irritable and anxious. Walking to work, like every other day, I pass bleak, old, London pollution covered buildings and crumbly walls. But today, all I can think is, "This is it. This is my life. This is what my life looks like." A familiar heaviness descends upon me again. And I'm not sure how to face the world with effervescence and friendliness. I don't. I'm snappy, curt and border on being rude. The tunnel vision created by the feelings I have makes me oblivious to those around me. I hate this shit. I'm so tired of it. I feel paralyzed.

I read a blog in its entirety. The topic was, "How do you know if you're depressed?" Why are there so many of you out there? And why am I one of you? Just going through the motions of life but not really living. Why did I stumble across you and why did I read you knowing full well that it would only dredge up what I've managed to suppress so well in the past few weeks?

Depression has become my security blanket, keeping me insulated. It's also my noose, strangling me and holding me down. All I need to do is see my GP for advice but I'm too fucking apathetic and pessimistic. I don't recall anyone ever paying complements to the sensitivity and competence of their GP in London...AND I would need to wait 2-3 weeks for the appointment. It wouldn't matter anyway. My inertia would prevent me from filling the prescription in a timely manner if it came to that. So instead, I sit here bitching and moaning about how shit my life is and doing absolutely nothing to change it. I am pathetic.