Prescription: Chocolate Buttons with a light dusting of Prozac.

It's a cyclical thing, I think. Me getting all depressed, I mean. I feel all hopeless again. I don't know whether maybe it's made worse by the fact that I can have weeks of being fine, of being better than fine. For me, better than fine is such an empowering thing. I go through periods of feeling so powerful. Like I am untouchable. I look around me and see all my friends and my family, I am happy. I don't hate my reflection, I don't blame myself for every tiny thing that goes wrong in the world. I see success for myself, see happiness and light in my future. For weeks on end. It feels amazing.

Sometimes I wake up and this positive, powerful feeling has simply evaporated. Like it has stolen away like a thief in the night, in its wake there is a void that I am shocked and overwhelmed by.
Sometimes it happens more slowly. Last Christmas I was on a high, and then over a period of two months I went so far downhill that I couldn't remember what it felt like to get up in the morning without feeling an instant craving for oblivion.

It got to the stage of the panic attacks and the insomnia, of the cutting myself off from my friends, the self-blame and paranoia. The whole period ended in a way that was totally out of my control and strange. Things changed without seeming like they had changed at all. I was still in the same job, I still had the same goals and ambitions, I had the same clothes. I chatted to people at work about the same things, got on the same trains and saw the same faces in the same sandwich shops. Somehow things began to look up. I stopped having panic attacks.

Then something else happened and I plummeted again, then something else and I plummeted again. Then things looked up and then nothing happened and I plummeted again, and it was horrible because this time there was no reason.

And now I have woken up this morning, after weeks of positivity, feeling that void again. It's not as bad as last time. I have had sleep and I think that's why it's not worse. It's more wanting to run away and hide- bad than slash my arms to bits- bad.

Why? Perhaps two crime episodes in the last week haven't helped. Also some encounters with someone from my past have shaken things up a bit. Also I'm moving into a flat in Oval (zone two, south, on the Northern Line) in the next few weeks and I'm worried about money and the fact that committing to it means that I have to stay at my job, even though I'm now working with a producer on a project that looks like it has good potential for actually going somewhere. I am worried that I won't have enough money to buy Christmas presents. I am worried that all my friends hate me and that I have no talent and that I'm fat and ugly and I have some horrible secret that even I don't know about and that it makes me a really horrible person.

Hello. I am insane. Do not invite me into your home.

Does knowing you're insane make you any less insane? Interesting.