now vicariously I have her in me

Michelle wondered aloud yesterday if I may be depressed citing a handful of typical symptoms/reasons..
my restless nights,
my wanting to sleep all the time,
my best friend (mom) being gone,
my general disinterest in life,
my general sadness,
my disinterest in being around people or even speaking to them,
my anger and irritability,
and (my favorite, since she says this every single time I see her whether I'm "depressed" or not)
my refusal to take care of myself, mostly through my refusal to eat.


I don't know.
Maybe I am "depressed."


Maybe I'm just so stressed my brain has shut off in order to keep me from going into panic attack mode 24/7.
Maybe I'm incapable of getting a good night's sleep because I'm stressed.
Maybe I just really enjoy sleeping and I always have.
Or who knows? Maybe I'm just fucking tired.

Maybe I'm angry because I sleep through class too often.

Maybe I'm sad because my boyfriend ignores me for two days straight then blames it on not being near his phone to hear the beeping or see the little blinking light (fucking bulllllllshit).

Maybe I'm irritated because my roommate wakes me up at 5 a.m. with incredibly annoying mid-90s club-techno music that she ironically turns down or completely off when I finally decide to get up at 7, or the fact that she gets goddamn powdered sugar all over my clean dishes and uses the sponge for dishes on the fucking bathtub (which never gets clean anyway).

Maybe I'm sad that my dad thinks smoking a lot of weed (instead of taking his goddamn antidepressants) will make it okay, when really it just makes depression worse.
Maybe it makes me angry that mother & I are constantly stressing the fuck out over money and dad fills prescriptions that he doesn't even take when we don't have health insurance to help pay for unused medications, then spends more money on pot.
Maybe it just irritates me that he tries to hide his smoking.
Maybe I'm sad because my dad is so miserable and I can't help at all (not "fix it" - just help) because he won't talk to me about anything that matters.

Maybe I'm irritable and angry because I can't smoke pot.
And I really liked smoking pot.

Maybe I'm angry that I never got paid by my supposed "job" last semester, and I am probably going to lose so-called "job" because I refused to go to "tutor training" last night.

Maybe I'm sad because I do miss my mother and I know she's sad and lonely and I wish we were together so that neither of us would be sad or lonely, or at least we wouldn't be lonely.

Maybe I'm sad because my sister is dead.

Maybe I'm so incapable of putting on a happy face because I'm never in the here & now, I'm constantly in my head with Kelsey.

Maybe I have a disinterest in seeing people because I have no one I want to see, and maybe I'm uninterested in speaking to people because I'm constantly surrounded by fucking moronic, hypocritical, rich, snobby Christians.

Maybe I get a thrill out of spending hours on my photobucket looking at people I don't know who seem just as frustrated with life as I am.
Maybe I get a thrill out of applying to colleges far, far away from here because it brings me that much closer to freedom.

Maybe I feel guilty that I take so much pleasure in talking about leaving and working on leaving because it upsets the only person I do spend time with (Jacob).
Maybe I'm angry because he makes me feel guilty about feeling excitement, like he makes me feel guilty for wanting to see/seeing the only other person I spend time with here (Kellyn) because she DOESN'T make me feel guilty about wanting to leave; she's excited for me and encourages me and likes me to talk about it.

And maybe, just fucking maybe, I AM GODDAMN TAKING CARE OF MYSELF AND I AM GODDAMN EATING.
Maybe I'm irritated by hearing someone tell me that I don't take care of myself and I don't eat because it's total bullshit and if it were true then I WOULDN'T FUCKING BE ALIVE AND HEALTHY.. I'd be sickly and skinny.

...or I'd be the dead one instead of Kelsey.

Maybe I'm irritated because I spend so much goddamn money on "taking care of myself" because my fucking nutritionist gives me a grocery list every time I see her even though I just fucking went to the store AND just bought more school books AND just spent ungodly amounts of money on psychotropics.

Maybe I'm angry because I tell my nutritionist that spending money gives me bad anxiety so she sends me on a shopping trip and tells me to report back to her how anxiety-inducing it was to buy the stuff.

Maybe I feel really guilty because I try so fucking hard to only buy the essentials (food, medicine, school shit, gas when absolutely necessary) and I still spend so much money and only make things worse for my mother who is getting migraines and staying awake at night worrying about money.


Maybe I think too much.

I. Don't. Fucking. Know.

Maybe I am "depressed."