A Timeline Of Existing While Being Depressed For No Reason!!!

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6: 34 AM

I’m awake and can’t tell if I’m hungover or simply waking up. There’s a little hurt behind my looks that is basically simply a part of me at this time. I lay face down into my pillow aimlessly comprehending for my phone and trying to forget whatever fantasy involving whatever ex had been representing through my head.

6: 45 AM

I’m on the treadmill. Not certainly accompanying , not really leading. Just sort of jogging at a gait that would definitely render me dead in a repugnance movie. There’s nothing representing through my earbuds because the idea of music is frankly annoying.

7: 45 AM

I’m sitting on the storey of my lavatory post-run, pissed that I didn’t ignite more calories. Pissed that I don’t instantly weigh 3 pounds little. Pissed at everything.

7: 56 AM

I’m just standing in the shower, be reminded that summertime when Greg and I sang karaoke every weekend at a dive forbid in Lakeside. My then-whatever-boyfriend’s grandma would buy us Barcardi and Diet Coke’s and sway along to whatever song “were in” belting out. She told me I reverberated like Carrie Underwood. I miss her sometimes.

8: 12 AM

I tell my dog out. While she’s peeing and smelling and life and laugh and beloved I remember that I affection her and that she’s one on why even the working day like today where all I want to do is lay on the lavatory storey are better than the working day before I had her.

8: 35 AM

I’m in bed, wrap under three cloaks and still shaking even though it’s not that cold, trying to convince myself to get some wreak done.

8: 40 AM

I answer a few Slacks. I resounded more riled than I am. I’m perhaps more short than I should be. At this time I’m just indifferent.

8: 51 AM

Maybe coffee would make it better…

9: 15 AM

The barista I ascertain every morning asked me if I was feeling okay. I lied and remarked ” just tired .”

10: 37 AM

The cold beverage I got has left distillation all over my stove and I’ve had perhaps 3 swallows and go zero wreak done because all I can do is continually refresh Instagram hoping I see something that will trigger inspiration to either write something or talk to someone. Neither has happened.

11: 30 AM

Should I dictate lunch ?? Do I even miss lunch?

12: 02 PM

I aimlessly snacks shredded cheese out of the luggage in front of the fridge while standing. Then, I gather an avocado out of the fridge with the intention of dining it on a rice cake.

12: 15 PM

I walk my bird-dog all over the cube. I flatten my looks like I’m ruffled but certainly, I’m humbly thankful that she actually get me out of the house and moving and make a notation to be noted that accompanying her for a mile or so looks pretty good.

1: 42 PM

How have I been watching enough that I’ve gotten through over half a season today? Has it gravely been representing the working day? Do I even like that much?

1: 48 PM

I publish an section. I feel really shitty about the lack of struggle I put into choosing a photo for this girl’s part. She’s probably going to be really excited about seeing her oaths online for( perhaps? perhaps ?) one of the first times and I just expended a good 30 seconds before choosing a photo of a girl with her back turned to the camera forgetting the ocean. I’m terrifying. I’m terrifying at my job. I’m worthless. I’m so replaceable it’s not even funny. I’m clowning everyone into thinking I’m some standout, internet boss bitch but in reality, I’m garbage. I’m coasting. I’m going to end up back in North Dakota perhaps like, refilling the popcorn container at The Ground Round and has become a cautionary narration that the Jenna’s and the Sara’s tell their children.

2: 15 PM

I start to edit another section, perhaps this won’t be so bad.

3: 01 PM

How did it take me almost an hour to do that? I certainly am terrifying at this. Ground Round now I come.

3: 33 PM

I ponder perhaps I should just take a nap. I’ll simply hit” Yes for the ardour of GOD I’m still watching” and doze off to the dins of Ross trying to date women who aren’t Rachel for a bit.

6: 33 PM

6: 40 PM

I lay on my couch staring at the ceiling and realize how much I’ve fucked up my cuticles today while “watching”( aka: look at this place and not catching) Netflix. My right pointer digit is shredded, there’s blood discolorations on the internal areas of both my digit. My left middle digit didn’t stand a chance. And although there are retrospectively I know how bad this is, there I am, picking away at scabs on the sides of my limbs. Habitually, instinctually, impulsively.

6: 46 PM

I tell my dog out again. She barks at small children. I don’t apologize.

7: 00 PM

I say to myself,” No imbibe tonight !”

7: 14 PM

I find the avocado I never snack. I still don’t eat it.

7: 31 PM

I’m being moved a glass of red wine and becoming down every offer to go out tonight.

8: 05 PM

I start writing this- whatever it is.

9: 20 PM

I’m still not done with this but I’m two glass deep and I’m really missing my preference to not really eat today. But not enough to dictate a sandwich.

9: 36 PM

A group of joyful, chuckling, perhaps Microsoft-employeed dudes come into the wine-colored forbid where I’m working. They quip something about” too many Brians !!!!” and quote Aziz Ansari and put on fake British accents when choosing a wine-colored and I wonder what it’s like to be so blissfully unaware of your own idiocy.

10: 02 PM

I’m back in bed. I should wash off my makeup. I use a Burt’s Bees obliterate instead.

11: 33 PM

I’m wide awake. I’m at a loss for why I find as empty as I do. I have every reason to be exponentially joyful. Every reason to like, hollering from the ceiling surpasses that it does in fact get better !!!! But…does it? Is that just something we try to convince ourselves? Perhaps it doesn’t get better your bank account simply get large? Or maybe there are just better people around you but you still feel like shit? I don’t know.

12: 04 AM

Still awake.

12: 30 AM

Still awake.

12: 44 AM

Still awake. Still contemplating.

1: 15 AM

Still awake. Still now. And I still don’t know why I’m depressed.

Read more: http :// thoughtcatalog.com/ kendra-syrdal/ 2017/04/ a-timeline-of-existing-while-being-depressed-for-no-reason /~ ATAGEND

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