i woke up at 11 am and heard my brother's surprise, which was adorable. i went back to sleep. i overslept, of course. my mum decided to address that by telling me that what i am doing is "escaping" and it is either from sadness or obligations like studying. she asked which my case is and i didn't answer. i don't know when exactly it started, but it was a long time ago. after i wake up, i do stay in bed because i either want to daydream or go back to whatever dream rather than face reality. on every single one of those times, i go back into deep sleep out of nowhere. it's never intentional. i usually try hard to focus on thoughts just to finish them off and get up, but it never happens. they're often the same daydreams that i get before i sleep. nothing is satisfactory. i am tired. it's 10 pm and i'm trying to get the math to move but i don't feel like it. i don't feel like doing anything else, either. i could use a drink, but nothing comes to mind.

worst of all? i'm trying to sleep earlier. instead of 6 am, i sleep at 4 or 5, or ideally before, so i do get into bed earlier, between 11 pm and 2 am. last night i had a bit of delay and was wrapping things up at 3 am, so i ended up actually sleeping between 4 and 5. what i'm trying to say is, i sleep for more than 10 hours. that's not good at all. last year, on weekends, i did sleep late, but i slept for 8-10 hours, which is ideal and compensates the 4 hours daily i had throughout the week, but how do you justify having 10 hours of sleep, only to immediately get back to sleep and have 2-4 more? terrible. i don't even like sleeping. i never look forward to it unless i'm exhausted from a night spent outside.

there's always the insomnia, sure, but that doesn't explain my physical refusal to get up, ever. my brain is hazy first thing in the morning, which is why i forget about any responsibilities and i am still half-dreaming, making me get back inside rather than get up, but that's not the case anymore. there's nothing to look forward to.

nothing's going badly in my life. things are going well, yet the only thing on my head from the moment i wake up to the moment i go to sleep is "i want to blow my head off," even when i'm doing well. i don't feel sad. i feel nothing. i definitely feel better than how i did in september and november, and there's nothing to complain about, but i still feel like there's this buzz or itch in my head, an invisible one. i don't know what that's about. is it some kind of refusal to let myself ever feel well? a sort of denial that i got better? i don't like nights, mornings, afternoons, nor evenings. nights are the hardest still since that's when i am the worst person on earth. i had another one of those weird spirals the other night. it was horrible. as always, i was fine in the morning. i hate that the only persistent issue is inside my head rather than something i could physically deal with, making it look like i'm the one making myself go through this. i don't understand it either. do i simply not think? wouldn't that fix it? ignoring it? escapism never got me anywhere. i've been living in my head for years. i don't look forward to anything anymore since life isn't going anywhere, or so it seems.

sooo funny. yet again, i tell myself, "i don't deserve help for something so simple. i'll deal with it myself like always." and what am i doing? absolutely nothing. god i feel like this is such a trivial thing. it probably doesn't exist anyways. i'm totally confused as to why this keeps bothering me. i don't feel like myself. i've also been told that i've "changed" but all they ever see is my anger and never my sadness when they say that, which is gone now but still. i never try and seek help because i know that if i answered her questions, whatever vulnerable thing i say can be used against me when she's angry at someone and chooses to turn towards me as well for whatever goddamned reason, like i'm some kind of failed loser or whatever. i may be overthinking the possibility, but i don't think i'll be taken seriously. they'll just tell me what i tell myself, or say "everyone goes through that!!" or any other form of trivialization. to be believed i might have to go disgustingly deep into how i feel and think to even remotely communicate what's going on in this fucked up head. i don't want to tell a soul.

it's so funny. the worse i feel, the less i want a therapist. how is that logical? how am i convinced that i am functioning just because things are good here and there? i feel like my thinking's gotten somewhat restricted in frame. i guess making more art would help with that feeling, at least when i'm motivated. other than that, i don't know what to do or where to start. i don't think talking to a friend will help. i'll look into things they've told me in the past from when i was awfully depressed. would help maybe.

ok i got it. i realize now that i'm feeling confused again. my brain feels hella fuzzy. like it's filled with something. cotton. see, this is a loop. the more i write, the more it goes back to "but i don't know what to do." seriously! what am i supposed to do? something?

i feel like there's a blow that could fix this. something strong. i don't mean hitting myself on the head with a cardboard rod i mean a metaphorical blow. i know that a specific person appearing would lift off a portion of this because i really want to tell them something specific just to rest for once, but is that really it? there's the energy again. i don't know what the hell to do with it but my mind wants to direct it to self-destruction.

i don't feel normal at all. i hear sounds from the kitchen. it's people having a normal life and a normal day that's not fun, but going. and then there's me doing absolutely nothing useful, with a consciousness buried deep under some shit who probably looks like a freak as they type this.

update: it's 6 am now. I've thought about it. i guess it had to do with feeling that i had to do this alone and that an invisible struggle is not "real" enough and that i "made it up" just to "feel something". i will try to speak up about therapy, but not even for this thing, just in general. i could use a helping hand. fuck this shit man. so fun, not saying a word until I can't take it anymore. i don't know if i can speak. am i really that weak?