Dresses

Oh look. Pictures of me being depressed.

I have developed this habit of buying clothes ONLY for work, so I have nothing to wear when I go out anymore. That doesn’t sound like it would be a really real problem, but it is. You never consider how much what you wear reveals about yourself. My wardrobe being catered exclusively around work and nothing being something that I’d wear to a social event really shows how much I’ve forsaken social life. (Imma totally derail now… enjoy or skip down to ANYWAYS…)

I try to be social, but it ends up so disappointing.

For example, this past Friday I tried to hook up with Bird. She’d had a terrifying experience on the highway and wanted to go out and celebrate being alive… She turned down all my suggestions for actual fun things to do, and we ended up just getting a drink at a bar we don’t go to much “for something different.” I suggested everything from a local goth night, to crashing a senior citizen prom, to just trying a new venue with some different kind of music… but as much as she says she’d like to do more than the rest of our friends, who LIVE at karaoke and do literally nothing else, she doesn’t really want to try anything new either. On top of that, I tried to plan for her being late, because she’s always fucking late, and I was still there for about an hour alone before she showed up. So… all together I call the night a bust. We didn’t even really have anything to talk about since neither of us seem to do much at this point. I think we are both horrifically depressed… and depressed people do not lift each other up, but rather we drag each other down.

I was supposed to go to a birthday party Saturday night, but hurt my back doing yard work and backed out. I made sure to make it to a move with Bird on Sunday morning. She wanted to see Annabelle: Creation, and I was down. SO… I get her to confirm movie time and location, but just as I’m leaving my house she’s like…

“Are we still doing this?”
“Unless you suddenly changed your mind.”
“No, I’m just double-checking.”

::15 mins goes by and I’m outside the theater::

“But what about your back?”
“It hurts but all we’re going to do is sit.”
“Okay.”

And then she showed up like 20 mins later, right when the movie was starting.

I try really hard not to take shit personally, but if you wanna bail, just fucking bail. I hate people who vacillate way more than people who bail. At least I know when someone bails that I suddenly have free time. It’s still a little inconvenient, but at least it’s definitive so I can plan something else. Toss always being late into that mix and I’m just a weird mixture of hurt and angry that you’re wasting my time.

I was trying to wait for her in the parking lot, but I ended up just telling her where I was sitting and going into the theater because I stopped caring if she even showed up. I was there. I was irritable. I was seeing the movie with or without her… just cuz I was there.

I love Bird to death. She’s a great person, and I know she’s got her own shit she’s dealing with, but I just hate trying to do stuff with her. I just end up feeling bad because she vacillates on plans and then shows up late. So me, miss prompt-and-requiring-validation, feels like I’m not worth hammering down plans with, and that she’s not valuing my time… and she’s not valuing my time… and I find that mean… and the fact she’s one of two friends I legit see regularly really just compounds how meaningless I perceive that I must be to her, whether it’s true or not.

ANYWAYS I BOUGHT SOME DRESSES. I was going to go to Torrid on my way home from work one night this week, but got a better deal online and picked up six dresses there… and then I got three from Maurice’s that are plainer and cheaper, but still nice looking. I tried really hard to pick things I could, and WOULD, wear somewhere that isn’t work. I tried to throw some actual personality into it. It’s hard… because I don’t even know what I’d like to wear anymore…

I just use clothes to cover this terrible body I have, and that’s not fashion. I’m not expressing myself; I’m just hiding something I refuse to embrace. It contributes to my bad feels… I would really like to like myself again. I did for a while there, and it was great. I dunno what’s changed now… but I don’t like not liking myself.

So… gonna work on that, I guess.

A Double Post Kinda Day – Still Blue

What am I doing?!

I don’t know, but I keep texting him anyways. It’s not like I’m in love, or even lust, but I keep texting him. I guess I’m lonely. It’s not as though I have anyone to generally talk to about being sad. A stranger can chat without prying. I can talk to a stranger without thinking about anything important. It’s a nice escape from everything, I guess.

I suppose some people talk to their friends, but even with the small group of friends I keep I can’t imagine bothering them with my emotional turmoil. I mean, what do they care?

Most don’t: that’s the short answer. Having been removed from my immediate life for long enough, I have tried reaching out to my friend in California, but unsurprisingly he’s not really interested in it. I’m not sure why it’s surprising, as I’ve always felt him a touch self-absorbed anyway, but it hurts nonetheless. I tried telling a friend in Maine, because she’s another person I needn’t look in the eye when I spout my emotionally fucked bullshit, but while she’s concerned she isn’t really sure how to handle it. She just tries to reassure me, which is about as effective as it sounds reassuring a crazy person would be. Ha.

I have not tried to talk to my local friends, or my best friend in Oregon, about my meds or how I’m feeling. At my lowest I made it known to Bird that I was struggling, but I can’t imagine actually trying to explain a bipolar thought pattern to her. I considered trying to tell my bipolar friend, but he’s also very self-absorbed. He doesn’t even really do a good job at pretending to care about others; he’s just hellbent on trying to feel like a person again. I can’t really blame him for that… it’s hard the first time you lose yourself.

I could never REALLY talk to the Mothership about my bipolar. She understands depression, but only to the point she’s managed to build her own little barricade of coping mechanisms. So if I’m too depressed to get out of bed, that’s beyond her realm of understanding… so I, too, get out of bed and trudge on into the day, knowing that as soon as I walk through my front door I’m allowed to hit the floor and not move again until the next morning if I have to… and I have. No, my darling mother has major depression, not bipolar, so she doesn’t get mania. She doesn’t have highs that come in waves of feeling powerful, vengeful, or even happy. She doesn’t know what it feels like to think yourself invincible. She just knows the blue… the malaise… the ongoing sea of endless nothing. At least she sort of gets half of it, I guess. When I want to cry but have no reasons, she gets that… and she worries about all those depression-y things that crop up from time to time.

Knowing kinda half the story isn’t enough to understand, though. I can’t explain to her why mania is a problem or the complicated dance the two weave across the dance floor of my personality. I can’t explain why I do some things, or what it’s REALLY like to hear a voice you’re aware is all in your head. I can’t explain to her everything I’ve done under the influence of one episode or another. I can’t explain why there’s so shame behind my eyes and why certain innocuous things seem to hurt me. No, it’s not enough to know the half-truth of a disease and what ways it can eat at a heart.

So I keep texting him, even though I’ve already told him we shouldn’t see each other romantically. I hold my breath each time the phone buzzes, hoping it’s the nice young man that barely knows me. We don’t talk about my bipolar, or depression, or mania, or the voices, or how sometimes I think I’d rather die than have to get out of bed. I don’t feel the urge to tell him I’m struggling, or that going home at the end of a long work day is awful because there are little living things there relying on me to care for them. I don’t feel like I have to confess. It’s just small talk… How was your day? Did you see that film? What time are you free for a drink on Saturday? It’s nothing important. It’s nothing that hurts.

I don’t love him or lust for him… I don’t ache for him, and I definitely don’t want to be in his bed or his arms… but it’s just nice to fill the time with bullshit, I guess. When real life is so hard, the meaningless becomes quite pleasant.

Better Kind of Weekend

So, Friday night was a bust… I dunno if you read that entry, but I was really fucking depressed. I ended up NOT going to my Halloween in July party, and slept for 14 hours instead. I regret not going. I bet it was a hella good time, but I was too depressed to be out somewhere… not because I couldn’t have gone, cuz I could have, but because in a mental state of depression I get really…. impulsive. If I’d gone, I’d have paid for the Lyft to and from, then the $20 at the door, and then proceeded to drink myself into massive debt. I drink a couple hundred bucks worth of tequila in a pretty small amount of time, so while I regret not going, I do not regret not going in the mindset I was in… It wouldn’t have been any fun, anyways, and I saved a good $300 I didn’t need to spend (assuming I didn’t start buying drinks for rando people cuz I was wasted… also a thing I do).

I didn’t really feel better when I got up the next morning, but I clawed my way out of the bed and went to get a hair cut with Mom, anyways. I kept apologizing for being sad. She just pat me on the back and said it was okay. She’s so much better about my mood swings these days than she used to be, but I was still sorry. I get so overwhelmed sometimes and I can be really short with people. She used to take that personally, but over time we are doing better at it.

After the movie we tried a new theater to see Despicable Me 3. We will be going back to Movie Tavern instead. The whole experience was meh. The movie was cute, especially for a third installation of a series… I didn’t expect it to be GREAT, but it was cute. I liked it. Also, I now want a goat.

Saturday evening I had a bbq/party to go to at the Polygon. The Polygon is a communal living home full of poly people. I’m not poly, but they always invite me to stuff, so I go. They’re nice people.

I was looking forward to this party, in particular, because of a party I went to there a few years ago when I was really into binge drinking. I drank a lot and hooked up with this guy. It was not a memorable hookup, other than by the time we actually got somewhere to hookup I was tired and didn’t really wanna… and I lied about being religious as a reason not to give him a bj (“I pray with this mouth… I can’t.” hahaha). By the Polygon standards it really shouldn’t have been a thing, anyways, as I was REALLY drunk, and didn’t give ENTHUSIASTIC consent… it was more that I gave in… but whatever. I remembered him because he spent like 30 minutes telling me about how he was Jewish, and then made this comment about a chick not asking to have one of the beers he brought for the party… so I told him not to be a Jew about it… because… I’m me, and I thought that was funny. He did too, and I think that was when he decided he’s like to bang me. The fun part of the hookup was that afterwards I immediately went home while he put himself back together. I said goodbye to no one. I just ninja’d outta there and booked it home.

So a couple of months ago I was over helping one of the housemates make a YouTube video, and after we got done she was like, “This is where (dudebro) puked after you fucked him. He’s still mad you left after that, by the way.” I was like, Really?! It was 4 years ago… But I just filed that information away.

CUT TO THE PARTY.

I’ve been there for a while, having a lovely time, and I go to pee. No one is inside the house because the Polygon has no air conditioning, but the doorbell rings. There’s a sign that says to just come in, but the doorknob is a lil wonky and I guess they couldn’t get it open. So I wash my hands and go answer the door. AND IT’S THE GUY of course. Lol. He’s there with a lovely woman he brought as a date, and I let them in and say hi. He looks at me, his get huge, and then he puts on a straight face and goes, “I think… I know you right?” Like he legit couldn’t remember, which I knew was false since the housemate had told me he was still pissy. So I just start laughing maniacally. I couldn’t help it. So I’m laughing like some kind of insane person, and all I can do is choke out, “Yeah, hi (dudebro’s name)” and left them both there at the front door. I probably laughed for like 20 minutes. The rest of the party Dudebro avoided me. I made a point to chat up his chick friend, though. She was alright. Little… aloof… but she was also high as a rocket, so I didn’t think too much about it.

The rest of the party was good, though. I talked to lots of people, I got electro stimulation on my back, and I ate a lot of these crackers someone brought. When my feet hurt, I went home, though. People were getting too drunk or twisted to make conversation, so I just ninja’d out again. Most of the housemates had retreated to the depths of the house anyways, so I’m not sure anyone particularly would’ve noticed. I was home before midnight, but I’d had a good night.

Sunday I got up and made vegetable korma in the crockpot and clean before taking Mothership to pickup her new car. Really that just meant I got to play with the broker’s dog… his name was Bowser, and he was some kind of poodle mix looking thing that liked to play fetch. We played lots of fetch while she chatted with him. He used to be our GM, so they talk shop a lot. I didn’t do too much after I got home after that. Watched Planet of the Sharks (Waterworld meets Mad Max meets Jaws… it was awful).

Monday morning has been less pleasant.

I already wasn’t looking forward to today because I’m going to see a shrink today about my bipolar depression, and I have no faith that she has anything she can prescribe me that I would be interested in taking. I considered cancelling the appointment several times, but it takes SO LONG to see someone (made the appt in March) that I figured I’d just keep it and see what she has to say.

To make matters worse, my GM threw a fit over the cameras over the weekend. He had this camera system installed without consulting me, the outside IT company we use, or the corporate IT guy. So it’s never quite worked right. He got all upset that it’s not working right, and somehow it’s MY fault it’s not working right. No. Just no. I am doing the best I can with what limited knowledge I know about the cameras to just make it work at all.

He also went off about not having the password to install shit on his work laptop… which I know I gave him. And he was bitching about his PERSONAL MAC AT HOME which I am in no way responsible for. He didn’t include me, so I’m fucking out. I passed it off to the outside IT guy, and that’ll be what he does when he gets here while I’m at the shrink. I don’t WANT to know about the camera system. Not even a little bit.

I’m so over this GM, tbh. He’s an overzealous, disorganized, piece of hipster trash, more concerned with his tight suits and the line cut into his part than doing anything around here correctly. He just does shit and then piles figuring out the details on whoever is available, and I’m fucking over it. Do it right, or don’t fucking do it.

I’ve got to put real effort into my liquidation… so I can get the fuck out of here. I’m also putting real effort into my debt consolidation. I’ve got a decent credit score, but when we jump ship and run away to Oregon, I really wanna be able to take a lesser job… I could happily be a biller if we can just get together enough money to flat out buy a house without a mortgage payment… and since we’re selling here, and buying there, the economic difference MIGHT allow that. Here’s hoping.

Anyways. Feeling okay today… we shall see what shrinky dink lady says… I’ll listen to her, but I’m not going to get my hopes up that she’ll listen to me.

I am sad. 

I was going to go to a “Halloween in July” party, because how fun does that sound? But I’m not going. Instead, I’ve been overdramatically crying in my closet floor.

How did I get here? 

It’s easy. I’m a pathetic human being. I was trying to talk to my mom on the way home from work, and she wasn’t interested, so it made me depressed. She’s been sick, so she’s tired and can’t deal with my mood swings. So, having no one else in my support system, I came home, crawled into my closet and have been crying on and off for roughly 2 hours. 

The dogs are concerned but fail to comfort me. 

Also, this is why I can’t have kids. Can you imagine being the kid whose mom comes home and locks herself in her closet to cry? That child is gonna be messed up. 

It’s not too late. I could still go to the party. 

I’m not going to. It costs money and in this mood is probably go, get depressed no one I knew would come with me, then binge drink. I really can’t afford it, and it would be irresponsible, but tomorrow I  going to regret wasting my Friday night. I’m almost done with my 20s. I should have done more with them, but I spent a lot of time crying on floors instead. 

And you know what gets me? 

No one cares. 

My mom tries to care, but my bipolar ass is hard to deal with and I get mad and snap and she stops caring cuz I’m mean. And that’s fine, and totally fair play, but no one cares. 

The dogs care. They’re very concerned. But they can’t fix anything or even really console me. 

So I curl up in a fat little ball of wasted potential and cry, and no one cares. 

I wanted to go to a party. I wanted to have fun. 

Fml.

Easter Weekend: Trying to Be a People

Last week sucked. It sucked hard.

I was very low Monday after my pharmaceutical FIASCO. Tuesday… I was weirdly better. It’s a trend I’ve noticed, that when I hit rock bottom I tend to be better, because apathy kicks in. The less I care, the happy I often am, but it’s not a cure all. The rest of the week was still a struggle. I was still down, having had all my hopes and dreams of feeling better dashed to the ground, and spit on, and kicked by Kaiser Permanente,but the weekend was a pleasant relief.

I was unusually social.

Friday I went to David 2’s to watch RuPaul and Martha & Snoop. HOW DID WE MISS THE RETURN OF MARTHA & SNOOP? We still don’t know, but we’re happy to catch up. I worry about David 2, because he has a substance abuse problem. It seems that every weekend he has to get as drunk and high as humanly possible. While I’m not hating on people that like to get twisted, I feel like it’s not a good thing to need that every weekend… and high as a kite every single night. That’s my dad. That’s exactly how my dad is. Oddly enough… all three of us (David 2, myself, and dad) are all bipolar… I hope I don’t ever fall into that habit. I had fun, though. We shared music and watched TV and microwaved Peeps in honor of Easter!

​(This is not our picture… We microwaved one on a paper towel, and then a whole box of them… but like… I needed a melty peep pic… I needed it.)

Saturday Mothership and I got our hair done. I whacked all mine off. It’s pretty normally colored, though. Got some rose gold and pinks for spring. It’s cute, and there’s nothing better than whacking off your hair when you’re having an emotional crisis. I convinced Mothership to whack hers off, too. She looks younger with a cut closer to her head.

Afterwards, I took her to Ulta, because I wanted lip plumper. I like lip plumper. I like when it hurts. I got Buxom, if you’re curious. The shade is Samantha. While we were there, however, they were doing free makeovers for spring. I did not get a makeover… I have a certain look that I do, and I don’t like people trying things with my look. BUT these were older women, and they noticed Mothership’s eyebrow situation… as in, she has none. I convinced her to let this woman show her how easy it is to pencil on eyebrows. It really is easy. She ended up getting the box the chick used, and some cream to bleach her dark spots.

Meanwhile… I discovered Nyx.

I’ve been a pretty loyal Smashbox girl for years, but it’s so expensive. Nyx is pretty cheap… and the COLORS are amazing. I conned myself into some ridiculously colored lipsticks, eyeliner, and even a contour kit… I’m not great at contouring yet, but I’m working on it. I figured that going back to putting on makeup in the morning would help me feel more like a person… and since I’m still so depressed that it’s hard for me to even shower regularly, figured I’d take it up a notch… because why not make it harder?

#TryingToBeAPeople

I’m trying to figure out contouring, too.

I went to see Missa Saturday afternoon. I gave her a box of painting supplies. I’m trying to ween myself off having SO MANY hobbies, because it takes up room. So I gave her all that, and now I just gotten figure out who to unload my yarn on. She was happy to see me, which was weird for me… I don’t have a lot of confidence in most people actually liking me. She invited me to hang out for a couple of hours and we just caught up. Then Lola came home and we talked about her starting a makeup channel on YouTube. I told her that I’d love to help, even if she just wants to put stuff all over my face. Much to my surprise, she messaged me this morning to make plans for Thursday. So… it’s weird, but good.

When I got done at the Polygon (literally we call it that because a ton of poly people just move in and out of there all the time, with Lola, Rhonda, and Missa being the constants), I zipped out to Lakewood to see Bren. Shaunna got off work early, and we all ate ribs and hung out, and I kicked Bren’s ass twice in Star Realms. Lol. It was a good time. I really enjoyed the socializing.

Sunday was Easter! We did nothing.

Well, that’s not true… Mom got me a dark chocolate bunny, a small box of Russel Stover’s, and a bag of apple flavored gummy bears… and then we went to the grocery store, and I wasted the rest of the day with the dogs watching RuPaul’s Drag Race, Season 7. Lol.

I enjoyed doing nothing.

Tuesday is my phone call with the psychiatric nurse, and then I’m off until next Wednesday. So… Just gotta get through the current chaos…

Latuda Costs $1120.00

So… yesterday was awful.

It didn’t START awful. Like, I didn’t wake up already feeling like I should kill myself or blow up a medical building, but I ended the day debating both. I did neither, I promise.

So yesterday I went to see my old primary care doctor, because Kaiser is a piece of shit system that hasn’t afforded me the ability to see any kind of NEW primary care doctor, even though it’s April. I don’t know if I told you guys how hard getting this appointment was, so a brief recap was that I got accused of trying to commit insurance fraud. So, I already didn’t feel GREAT about going in, but I like my doctor and felt like she could throw me a metaphorical bone.

The appointment was as expected, except that the nurse that took my blood pressure and stuff also gave me a Peep… That was unexpectedly nice.

I had to field the normal questions, such as whether I’d lost interest in hobbies, if I still go out, etc. Every answer was, of course, overwhelmingly bleak, so I tossed in that I had a friend to help get me out of the house, and that mom also tried to get me to do things… seemed to make her feel better, even if it’s something of a mixed truth.

She wrote me a script for Latuda, which is an antipsychotic currently being used to treat bipolar depression. It’s not unusual for a bipolar to take an antipsychotic, and I’ve taken one before that was supposed to help with my irritability (it didn’t help with that, but it gave me some wicked nightmares). The reason doctors give out things like antipsychotics to treat bipolar depression, is because if you give us something like an SSRI there’s a good chance we’ll be stuck in a manic state, and they say that can be really dangerous. I disagree, on the grounds that my mania is the best part of my life… but you can’t trust a manic bipolar… we’re impulsive and irrational… so they say.

So I went back to work, but this headache I’d been fighting all day got the best of me and I ended up going home early, before I reached a point where I couldn’t drive. I went home and changed, and then went to the Kaiser pharmacy by the house. I hate that pharmacy… it’s full of weird people, sick people, and Kaiser employees that seem about as happy to work there as I am to have Kaiser Insurance. Still, I was excited to finally get something that could bring some spark of relief. My life has been so heavy and dark recently, that the spark of hope was blinding.

All my hope was obliterated when the pharmacist, who was quite unpleasant to start with, loudly said that my medication cost $1120.00 and that my doctor should put me on something cheaper. People in the back of the pharmacy gasped, and I… didn’t know what to do. She continued on about how Kaiser’s formulary is available online and some other useless facts that didn’t help anyone and just further embarrassed me. So, I just left. I felt like someone had just run over my dog and then blamed me having the audacity to own a dog for why they killed it. I felt like nothing mattered anymore. I was completely devastated.

In my stupor, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I mean what do people do when they’ve lost literally all hope of life ever getting better? Oddly enough, as often as I’ve considered and mulled over suicide, in this moment of absolute wreckage I didn’t consider that at all. I just felt lost and hopeless and like I was drowning. I cried all the way home, which wasn’t really that far, and then decided I should just talk to my mom. She was at a vet appointment for Ava, so I sat on her doorstep and waited for her to come home.

There were tears and stuff, but essentially she just told me to call my doc and see if there was an alternative medication. I did that, but it’s almost 11am the next day and I haven’t heard from the office…

My mom convinced me to try and make a mental health appointment with Kaiser again, so I did that this morning. Kinda.

This part of Kaiser really adds insult to injury. I’m at a place where I need to see a mental health professional. I don’t know how low OTHER people have to be to see a mental health professional, but for me it’s pretty close to rock bottom. Well, since I “self-referred” myself Kaiser won’t schedule the appointment until I have a conversation with a psychiatric nurse and convince her that I’m sick enough to see a doctor. The idea is that she approves the self referral. It’s just insulting, though. I’ve never had to convince someone that I needed a shrink before, and it makes me want to slit my wrists in a Kaiser building and spell out AM I SICK ENOUGH NOW!? all over their walls. Like, this is a shitty way to treat people who are crazy.

Still, I’m sucking it up and I’ll do the fucking phone call… I’m not going to be happy about it. Every single fiber of my being wanted to tell the appointment guy that this is fucked up and I shouldn’t have to convince a nurse that I’m potentially suicidal in order to get an appointment with someone who can give me something for it. The thing about that is that I know that guy is just doing his job… so… I try not freak out on people who are just trying to live. Also, if you mention that this might be some kind of emergency, they just want you to go to an ER. I don’t need an ER right now… and actually if I did I still probably wouldn’t go to one… What’s the point of living if you’re just gonna rack up an incredible amount of medical debt to hang over your head for the rest of your life? Like… no… that doesn’t appeal to me.

We’ll see what happens.

The one thing about hitting a rock bottom, even if it’s not the lowest I can get, is that today doesn’t bother me so much. Work is still shitty, but why wouldn’t it be? I’m still fat, but I don’t care. My overwhelming sadness has been replaced with apathy. Somehow that’s still an improvement. I think when I get home I’m gonna spring and get my Adobe Creative Cloud… start reteaching myself how to make art with it. I can’t draw, but maybe I can restore some old photos or make a collage or something… just something. Cuz why not?

If yesterday didn’t end me, it just proves that it’s going to take something worse than losing all hope for life before I check out early.

Hard Day

I’m having a hard day…

That’s not a new thing, it’s just how my day is panning out.

I woke up in a pool of sweat.

I almost threw up several times this morning.

I actually threw up twice this morning.

And… yeah.
I want to dig a hole, curl up in it, cover myself with a large rock, and die.

That’s where I’m at today.

I am so fucking tired of feeling this way.



I’m glad that I have an appointment with my doc coming up, but I swear to god that I would kill a drifter to be able to see someone right now. I’m just over this feeling. I’m over being sad, and tired, and overthinking random people’s comments, and just constantly having a little voice in the back of my head that goes, “Wouldn’t it be easier if you were dead?” Because yes. It would be so much easier on me to just be dead.

Don’t hear me wrong. I don’t want to die. I am not suicidal. I’m often finding myself talking myself out of some kind of self harm, but I’m not suicidal. I just… am not doing well with existing at this exact moment. Also, I feel like it’s getting progressively worse. It’s not like it’s suddenly more frequent, because everyday is already super frequent, it’s just more consuming.

Metaphorically, my depression is like getting stray ink on you from a pen. It started as, oh shit, I have ink on my hand, and has now become something like, oh my god, my pen exploded and ruined my white clothing.

I don’t really have more to say, unfortunately, so I hope you enjoy my short, but depressing post.