I've probably said this before, but it must be said again: this whole "I'm here if you want to talk" thing is bullshit. It's utter bullshit.

Granted, here I am, needing to talk to someone, and I haven't exactly approached anybody, whatever that means these days. But my thought process right now goes along the lines of "I'm just disturbing" and "they have far more important things to do than listen to me ramble". Those thoughts pop up in between me staring at this laptop for the past five hours, getting absolutely nothing done.

Well, in those five hours - and counting - I've inadvertently tried to compose my thoughts. Think of it like me talking to myself. I'm trying to articulate what I feel - to myself. I'm trying to figure out why I've been in this funk for the past month - to myself. Occasionally I'll think of telling all this to someone, and then I won't. Again, I must be disturbing. There really are far more important things to do that listen to me ramble - to listen to anyone ramble.

It's the world we live in these days. You have to figure things out for yourself. You have to do everything by yourself. Be proactive. Be a go-getter. Anything else is a weakness, and that makes you either a snowflake or a pussy. It's no surprise psychiatrists get paid exorbitant amounts of money just to listen to people ramble. Well, "and other things," you might say, but still.

I suddenly have the urge to cry, but what does that do?

Yes, I have not been well lately. Not in the last four weeks or so. It's paralyzing anxiety and even more paralyzing uncertainty. It's waking up earlier than you should, and not being able to fall asleep again. It's hearing nothing but comments about what you've missed, or what you've done wrong, and nothing about what you've done right. And I do end up thinking that I have done nothing right all this time, which probably explains why I am not able to go on vacation, or why I am not able to take on my interests, or why I'm falling out of love with the things I thought I love to do. It's been eating at me for days, and yet, no, you have to figure things out for yourself, because everybody else is too busy to even lend a helping hand, or feign doing so.

Here I am, rambling into the void, although not exactly, because I will publish this, publicly, and even then there is nothing you can, or will, do.