This is only my fifth day on an SSRI, and I wish it would hurry the fuck up and make me not sad.
I wish it would also help me sleep. Sleep is pretty much impossible. I’m crazy anxious with churning thoughts. When I do sleep, it’s for but a few hours. Tomorrow, I shall try to get a prescription for a sleep aid. Lack of sleep makes me even sadder than I am already.
It doesn’t help that I’m sleeping in an unfamiliar house.
I’m currently living with a friend of a friend. Porkchop and I were stuck cycling through the same unhelpful emotions, and something needed to change. This is supposed to be a time of growth. I need to make more friends and get me back, but it’s difficult with this depression thing.
My heart and soul ache so much. My life is currently so weird and unfamiliar. I miss old times, and even if I weren’t depressed, I don’t think anything will ever be the same.
I just want to cry and tear open my skin and shriek with anger. It’s a terrible feeling. Instead, I lie in this strange bed, unable to sleep and wishing desperately for time to pass quickly so that I don’t have to endure the slow pace of change.