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Sooo I'm depressed.

Nothing unusual about that, neh?

I should probably drag myself up and go DO something.

Like play the piano or violin. I love music. Used to think I'd become a professional pianist. Bought a violin and a bow that cost a fortune. My teacher was really pleased with my progress. Really pleased. He started teaching me two-year material when I'd been learning for two months. I have a talent for music instruments. But I haven't played either in a long time. Months. Just don't have the energy.

Or write. Everything's just so flat and bland and when the occasional spark enters my mind I'm too tired and depressed to think about it and maybe even write it down.

It's a bit of a waste. Being the way I am gives me all sorts of interesting little insights, but I don't have the strength to write it. There's probably thousands or millions of people like me, maybe people who're artistic or linguistic or music geniuses, or WOULD be if their biggest challenge wasn't getting out of bed in the morning.

I feel so pathetic.

What's the point of living like this?

******** it. I can't live like this. But I have to live because I've lived fifteen goddamned ******** years and they've been ******** awful and I survived anyway and I'm not going to throw it all away NOW, after so long. And because I can't stand to hurt people. Let's pretend that's not the only reason I want to live, hm?

So I have to live.

Not to survive.

To LIVE.

...just don't have the strength.