Better becomes worse

The only thing I can think to write about is how I have nothing to write about.

Which is hugely innovative and exciting of me.

I feel marginally better, but still not anywhere near normal. I just don't understand it. I know that it is something going on inside my body, rather than reaction to something external, but it just makes it more frustrating as there's not really anything I can do to make it go away.

This morning I have written lists, worked out what it is I'm worrying about and worked out solutions. I managed to do this without putting my head down on my keyboard and fighting back tears more than twice. Which is an improvement. These lists have helped, have reassured me that I can cope with the things I need to do, but they don't actually make me feel any better inside.

I feel nothing. I am at a loss.

It is this feeling, a feeling of helplessness and apathy, that makes me want to self-harm. I am not going to do that now, because I know it upsets people. I just have this overwhelming desire to feel something. I am blank.

I just thought to myself that it's only the fact that I know it's temporary that gets me through, but that isn't actually the case. I get through because I just do. I don't stop because I start feeling like everything around me is frictionless. I have lived through these feelings, I always just live through them. That knowledge, that this culminates not in an abrupt, climactic stop, but in a slow ebbing, that just makes it more depressing.

I want bright colours and sharp excitement. I want vivid, azure, limitless passion. I want exhiliration and adrenalin and raw beauty. I want adventure. Today. Now.

I am bored of my steady tenacity, with being sensible and trying to make the right decisions and do the right thing and being careful with my money and not getting sunburnt and not having a credit card and sitting so that no one can see up my skirt and cutting off my split ends and not drinking too much and keeping to a schedule and all these things that give my life a structure and keep me on the rails.

I know that I'll just get through this, and that nothing will end it. I won't suddenly get that excitement and watch the feelings of apathy dissipate. Colour won't flood in as I find adventure. I will just adjust once more to the fact that I am on these rails because I am going somewhere, and if I am not on the rails I cannot move forward. I am inherently a sensible girl. I won't derail myself and hang around, knowing that I can hop back on and slide forward again at any point. I know myself.

I have finished now. I have run out of words.