I’m going crazy and I don’t care. For the first time in a long time, I’m letting myself fall down the rabbit hole. I’m not sure if I find it more scary or exhilarating. The numbing feeling of starving my body. Of being able to focus on work and only work because I don’t have the energy to think about other things. Drinking the wine to further the analgesic effect. Working out hard on nothing. I almost forgot how dangerously good being numb felt. And now that I’m there, I’m in no rush to feel anything. Not the pain of not being loved. Not the pain of loneliness. Not boredom. I just need to feel content. My brain needs to rest.
My dark thoughts are back in full force, despite the prozac. So I entertain them. I think long and hard about the concept of death and dying.
I understand people who refuse to give up their depression. Sometimes, being numb is better than feeling.