The symptoms of my depression are beginning to show again. It may be time to seek therapy.
Is it frailty or just some fundamental defect in my person that leads me to this path time and time again?
Above all, I think it is the fault of my fearful, decadent flesh. I want to lay in my sheets, cocooned from any possible failure. It’s irresponsible, yet I persist.
Why? Is it so much better to sit around and hurt myself than to make even the smallest effort towards progress?
Seriously, fuck this. I’m going to go do my goddamn homework.