I was watching Clerks again a few nights ago. Randal's profound advise to Dante, "Shit or get off the pot" came to mind after I typed that title. Shit or get off the pot. Now.

The past week (or three) has found me gradually descending into a place I had hoped to stay far away from. One might label it "depression", although that term doesn't quite seem sufficient here. The word, though too dramatic in its connotations, fails to articulate the depth of my slow detachment from this life, or lack thereof.

This too shall pass.

I don't understand what is happening to me. I find my ability to concentrate and focus at the computer dwindling more with each passing day. My Java ambitions.... What happened? Things were coming along. I was learning jdbc, I was writing classes for traqer, and then... it just started getting harder and harder to keep my mind on the subject.

My writing has gone to virtually nil. This webpage has obviously been getting fewer updates. Emails I have intended to write have been put off. I feel like I'm drowning in my own emptiness.

I hate this, because there's no good reason for it. Days just seem to slip away. Nights blend together. Last night, when I was going to bed, I realized that I wasn't quite sure which day of the week it was. I had to look at my cellphone before I got it straight.

Sometimes, I wish that I could go to sleep forever and never wake up again. Please don't misinterpret that statement. I'm not suicidal. Even if I was, I don't think I could do it as long as my parents are still around. What I mean is.... It often seems like it would be nice if everything could just disappear into a fuzzy swirl. No death, no life. Just empty colors everywhere for all eternity.

Now that the words are flowing again, I know why I was having trouble writing. I'm freaking myself out. (Hopefully not freaking to many other people out, but if so, it can't be helped.) By expressing what's really there, I have to acknowledge that my mind is throwing me for some serious loops. Moreso than I would generally care to admit.

Once again, I find myself hesitant to go to sleep; I fear than when I wake up, this brain of mine will have mutated into something different. Something menacing. Something that's not me.

But then I rest, my wearisome self mercifully disappears for a while, and eventually I find myself regretfully waking back up, though I try to delay the inevitable as long as possible. I wish I could get out of this.

The other part I fear is coming. It's already here. The hostility. The anger. The instinctive defensive reaction in anticipation of others' reactions to that which won't be uttered.

"Go away! Leave me alone. I don't want sympathy. I don't want lectures. I don't want a pat on the back. I just want things to be normal."

So it is than when my mind takes me on these rides, I generally do my best to maintain a semblence of external equilibrium to the outside world. The best way to keep people from treating you like a mental basket case -- even those with the best intentions -- is to not act like one, even if that's what there is on the inside.

So it becomes an automatic reflex to respond to all inquiries by saying "I'm fine" without even thinking about it. But even with a little rationalization, the words can be made true.

Things are really alright with me. Everything is ok. I'm young, I'm healthy, and the whole world is in front of me. I just need a moment or two to catch my breath, figuratively speaking.

Except for one thing. My heart is about to fall apart.

Sorry about this dumb rambling. I usually like to try to make things at least somewhat positive and upbeat. But right now, it was either this or nothing. Next time, I'll try for something better.